The Transformation of Ducklings
by Magnolia Mama
Summary: Rose Weasley Granger and Scorpius Malfoy aren't about to let decades of enmity between their fathers get in the way of their friendship. As two shy, awkward teenagers wrestling with the onset of first love, they've got enough obstacles to overcome.
1. Chapter 1

He'd scarcely had a chance to pull out of the car park at King's Cross before the tirade began, and it didn't end even when he'd pulled up to the back entrance to 93 Diagon Alley and switched off the ignition. He'd never imagined one person could be plagued with so many faults and still manage to put his underpants on correctly--although, he mused, he could be jumping to conclusions. Whoever had Rosie in such a state was obviously someone she knew quite well, and Ron didn't care to entertain the notion that she knew her antagonist well enough to judge how he (or she, though Ron reckoned the former more likely, given the general nature of the diatribe) put on his underpants. There were some things a father just shouldn't contemplate about his teenaged daughter if he wanted to stay sane.

"Rosie?" he said, pocketing the car key and opening his door.

"What?" she snapped.

Taken aback, he was about to reprimand her, but then thought better of it. A raving Rosie was a fearsome thing to behold, and he'd rather she didn't turn her fury on him, at least not until they got home. "We're here," was what he settled for.

She looked through the windshield. "Oh." Slamming the door with such vehemence the whole car rocked, she stomped inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop Ron had managed with his brother for the past twenty-five years, still fuming.

George stuck his head out of the back office as Ron came inside, his eyes wide. "What the bloody hell was that? It had Rose's voice, but looked like a rabid banshee."

"Yup, that was Rosie, all right. Dunno what she's so worked up about."

"Boy troubles would be my first guess."

Ron sighed. "Mine too." He hung his jacket on the coat tree inside the office and put on the magenta robes he wore while at work. "I reckon it had to happen sooner or later."

"That's what you get for having a daughter." He looked around, then went into the corridor, then came back in. "Where's Hugo? Did he sneak past while that Rose-shaped tornado was blowing through?"

"No, he's gone home with Al and Lily. I think he took one look at his sister and decided he'd rather stay well shot of harm's way until she'd calmed down."

"Smart lad." He grinned. "So, who d'you think the lucky bloke is?"

"No idea; she's not named any names yet. I'm guessing Spencer Finnegan, since she mentioned him once or twice in her letters home." They'd entered the back room where surplus stock was stored for when display items were selling out; a curtain hung over the doorway that led into the main part of the shop, and Ron could hear Rosie hadn't let up. "Blimey. She keeps on like that, she's going to drive away all our customers."

George dismissed his concern with an airy wave. "Let 'er get it off her chest. Verthandi is as unflappable as they come, and maybe she can calm Rose down before it's time for you to go home. Besides," he added, turning his ear towards the gap in the curtain, "I'm dying to found out who's got her so worked up."

* * *

"Scorpius Malfoy?" Verthandi Barbary's brow crinkled in thought. "I don't think I've heard that name before."

"You haven't? Are you sure? I know I must have mentioned him before. Same year as me and Al, Ravenclaw prefect, president of the dueling club?" At Verthandi's continued lack of recognition Rose added, scowling, "He's the one who stole the Dumbledore Bursary from me last year."

"Ah, I see." Verthandi nodded slowly. "That was based on your O.W.L. marks, right?"

"Yes. That _prat_ scored two points higher than me on the Charms practical!"

"So he didn't really steal it, he just did better than you."

Rose glared at her. "Whose side are you on?"

"I'm not on anyone's side, Rose." She took a box of WonderWitch products from behind the counter to continue work on the window display she'd started before Rose arrived. "I don't quite understand what you're so upset about, though. The way you've been carrying on, it sounds as though he used an Unforgivable on someone."

"Malfoy? Use an Unforgivable? Ha!" She yanked a piece of Spellotape from the dispenser and handed it to Verthandi. "He hasn't got the nerve."

"Then what did he do to make you so angry?"

She folded her arms across her midsection and stuck out her lower lip. "He ignored me."

Still holding up the décor she was trying to attach to the glass, Verthandi looked over her shoulder at Rose with an expression of utter disbelief. "I'm sorry, what? He _ignored_ you?"

"Yes," Rose snapped.

"Since when is that an offense punishable by... what was it you said you wanted to do to him? Ah, yes: Death by Bat-Bogey."

"That's if I was feeling generous."

Verthandi turned back to the window with a chuckle. "Oh, Rosie."

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, it's not funny!" Rose said, stamping her foot. "He had no good reason to ignore me like that! It was very rude of him."

The décor securely in place, Verthandi came down from the stepladder. "Are you close friends with him? Did he have any reason to think he was expected to acknowledge you?"

Rose shrugged. "We studied together a bit this year. He's really brilliant at Astronomy and Arithmancy--you know I'm pants at anything involving numbers--and was a big help during exams. And, of course, we had all those prefects meetings that we both had to go to."

"It all sounds perfectly normal."

"I suppose. Plus, well..." She developed a sudden fascination with her thumbnails. "Well, last Hogsmeade weekend, we sat together in the Three Broomsticks."

"You sat together."

"Uh-huh." She glanced up at Verthandi, then back down. "See, he was there by himself, and I was by myself too, because all my friends were busy doing other things, and Hugo had detention _again_, and when I saw Scorpius sitting in the corner all alone I thought, 'Why not join him, it's not like he's that manky Spencer Finnegan,' so I went over and asked if it was okay to sit there, and he said, 'Sure,' so I did, and he bought me a Butterbeer." She took a deep breath.

"And?"

"And?"

"And then what? He bought you a Butterbeer, and then what?"

"And... that was pretty much it."

"The two of you sat there drinking your Butterbeers and didn't even talk to each other?"

She made a "tuh" sound just like her mother's. "Yeah, we talked. Mostly about school stuff. He asked me if I had any plans for the summer hols and I said I'd be working here, and he said maybe he'd stop in and buy something if his dad let him."

"That sounds promising."

Rose gave her a strange look. "It's not like I _want_ him to come here. I don't care one way or the other. I don't _fancy_ him."

"You don't?"

"No!"

"You certainly sound like you do."

"Well, I don't."

"Okay, fine, if you say so." She Banished the stepladder to the supply closet and started arranging the contents of the WonderWitch box in the window. "So you had a Butterbeer together at the Three Broomsticks, you talked about school and your summer plans, he said he might come by the shop..."

"And then he completely ignored me on the train ride to London."

"When were you last in Hogsmeade?"

"End of April."

"So it's been about six weeks since your--" She almost said "date," but caught herself in time. "--tête-à-tête. What happened in the meantime?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, did you and Scorpius go out of your way to spend time together?"

"No. I mean, we saw a lot of each other, but it was all the usual stuff."

"Did you make any extra effort to speak to him about things that weren't 'the usual stuff'?"

Rose wrinkled her face at Verthandi. "What are you on about?"

Verthandi sighed, grabbed the now-empty box, and took it behind the counter, where a woman stood waiting with two small children and a basket full of Whiz-Bangs. While she rang up the sale, Rose wrapped each item in Self-Extinguishing Tissue Paper, then arranged them in a box, which she tied shut with a ribbon that whistled "Pop Goes the Weasel."

"Thanks for stopping in," Verthandi said as they left. "Come back and see us soon." She rolled her eyes as soon as the door had completely shut. "She comes in here at least once every two weeks to buy nothing but Whiz-Bangs."

"Whatever for?"

"Who knows. I'm sure it has something to do with keeping those two little monsters amused. If she's not careful, they'll be permanently bored before they're old enough to go to Hogwarts." Verthandi stowed the box under the counter and then turned to face Rose. "All right, honey, you and me need to have a little chat about boys."

Rose's cheeks turned scarlet. "Thandi!" She looked around furtively and lowered her voice. "My dad and uncle are right. Back. There." She pointed in the direction of the curtain. "They might hear you."

"So what? What are they going to do?"

"For starters, Uncle George'll never let me hear the end of it. And Dad? He'll go absolutely spare."

"Why, because we're talking about boys?" Rose nodded frantically. Verthandi shook her head. "Fine. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley? You can come out now."

Rose let out a squeak of horror as George stepped through the curtain first, a broad grin on his face. Ron was right behind him, looking somewhat abashed and very unamused. "How long have you known?" George asked.

"You two are about as subtle as a pair of nesting Diricawls." She took off her work robes and Banished them to hang in the back office. "I'm going to take my break now, since I skipped lunch, and I'm taking Rose with me so we can talk _in private_."

"Spoilsport." George's eyes glittered with amusement. "How do you know one of us won't try to plant a Cordless Ear on you?"

Verthandi looked at him evenly. "If you were in the habit of spying on your employees even when they're off-premises, no one would ever work here."

"Vanquished by our own morals, dear brother," he said to Ron. "We must be getting soft in our old age. Don't be gone too long, okay? I expect the après-Hogwarts stampede any time now."

Verthandi held the door open for Rose. "We'll be at the ice-cream parlor. If things get hairy, you know how to get in touch with me." She pulled a coin from her pocket to show she had it with her.

* * *

"Tell me again what we're doing here?"

Scorpius tried to restrain his annoyance as he lengthened his stride. "_I_'m here because I wanted to pick up a few things. I don't know why y--"

"One of the house-elves would have got you anything you needed. What's the point in having paid servants if they're not going to earn their pay?"

He stopped suddenly and turned to face his father. "Maybe I wanted to do this for myself. Now if I may turn your question back on you: What are _you_ doing here?"

Draco looked around him and scowled. "Do you honestly think I'm going to let my son, scion of the Malfoy family, wander unescorted through Diagon Alley? Merlin only knows who might be lying in wait, eager for the opportunity to do us harm."

"I'm quite perfectly capable of looking after myself, Father," Scorpius said as he resumed walking in the same direction he'd been headed before. "I am seventeen now, in case you've forgotten."

"You've only been seventeen for a week. Having the legal right to use magic outside of school is not the same thing as being able to defend yourself should the need arise."

"I suppose having been president of the dueling club this year means nothing, then."

Draco scoffed. "Those duels are conducted under strict regulations to ensure the safety of the participants. If someone were to get it into their head to ambush you--and believe me, there are many who dream of just such an opportunity--I assure you they would not hesitate to exploit any unfair advantage to their benefit."

"Father, please," Scorpius groaned as his intended destination came in sight. He felt his stomach do a little flip at the name on the window and wiped his damp palms on his robes. "Surely there's something, _anything_, you'd rather be doing than playing chaperon? You've got to let me grow up sooner or later."

"Later suits me quite well." He glanced at the sign advertising the shop Scorpius was about to enter and grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards into the street. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" he hissed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What?"

Although the late-afternoon sun was warm, Draco pulled the collar of his robes more closely about his throat. "Why not just walk unarmed into a tribe of drunken giants?"

"It's a _joke_ shop, Father. It's been around for years. Everyone at Hogwarts is always going on about what a great place it is. I just want to see for myself if it's all it's cracked up to be."

"I don't doubt it's a perfectly... legitimate establishment." Draco glanced uneasily at the sign again and muttered under his breath, "It's the proprietors that concern me."

Scorpius, who had been peering through the glassed-in door, had to step back suddenly as it opened and a gang of boys he recognized from school exited, their arms laden with purchases. Several of them called out greetings to him before they burst into a gallop down the street, laughing boisterously. With a strange sense of longing Scorpius found himself leaning forward, trying to spot a certain wild-haired girl whom he had on good authority was supposed to be inside before the door swung shut, but was thwarted. He sighed with disappointment.

"Why the sudden fascination?" Draco asked as he examined the window display. "You've never shown any interest in this place before."

"Idle curiosity, that's all."

"Mm-hm." Draco didn't believe his son for a minute; Scorpius never did anything "idly," but was always purposeful almost to the point of obsessiveness. He resisted the temptation to try using Legilimency to find out just what his son was up to. "I believe they have a very lucrative mail-order business on the side, so if you're that interested, we can request a catalogue be sent to the house."

"No, that's not necessary, it's not that im--"

"Scorpius?"

Draco let out a "whoof" when Scorpius' elbow slammed into his side as he spun around. Massaging his bruised ribs, Draco turned as well and saw two girls--one of them clearly a student, judging from the uniform she still wore, the other a few years out of Hogwarts--polishing off the last few bites of a pair of sundaes. The younger girl, who looked strangely familiar, had managed to dribble strawberry sauce down her front, and was staring at Scorpius as though she expected him to burst into flames. Given his unusually high color, it wasn't an unreasonable expectation for her to have. Curious, Draco decided to take a step back and watch what was unfolding before he intervened.

"Scorpius, what are you doing here?"

Scorpius didn't know what to do with his hands. First he stuffed them in his pockets, but then he thought that was rather too casual, so he clasped them behind his back, but that struck him as much too formal. He finally attempted to affect an air of diffidence by propping one hand on his hip and raking the fingers of the other through his hair. "Er, hullo, Rose," he said, ignoring his father's snort as he tried to make his voice sound deeper than usual. "Fancy meeting you here."

She crinkled her nose at him, an expression Scorpius was very familiar with--it was the look she usually gave people she thought were nutters--and found utterly adorable. "This is my dad and uncle's shop. I told you I was working here this summer."

"You did? Ah, I must have forgotten."

"Your father and uncle own this place?" Draco interjected, coming forward. "You must be a Weasley, then."

"Weasley-Granger, actually."

His cold, grey eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. "That explains the hair."

"Father!"

"Bloody hell, Verthandi, what's keeping y--Oh," came a familiar voice. "Ron, you better get out here."

"Well, that answers one question," Draco said, his youthful drawl returning as though the past twenty-five years had never taken place. "Which one are you?"

"Great Merlin's balls, Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

"_Dad_!"

"Asking myself the same thing, Weasley. My son appears to have lured me here under false pretenses. Or perhaps I should say: your daughter lured my son here, and I, as a responsible father, came along to ensure he didn't come to any harm."

Scorpius looked as though he wanted to Transfigure himself into an insect and scuttle between the cracks in the pavement. The girl was on the verge of tears, no doubt a predisposition inherited from her mother. "Father!" Scorpius whispered, pulling at Draco's sleeve. "Apologize!"

Draco yanked himself free. "I'll do no such thing."

"Verthandi, maybe you and I should go back inside. We've got customers coming out our ears--or _ear_, in my case--anyway."

"Right behind you, Mr. Weasley." She hastened after George.

Ron inhaled deeply, puffing out his chest, and fingered his wand. "What are you insinuating about my daughter?"

Draco made sure his wand was in easy reach, took a step closer, and sneered. "That she _is_ your daughter should be insinuation enough." He smirked at Weasley's frown as he tried to interpret this. "I can tell where she learned her eating habits just from looking at her shirt. Let's go," he said to Scorpius. "Your mother must be wondering what's kept us." The stricken look on his son's face stopped Draco from saying anything further. He glanced over his shoulder to see what Scorpius couldn't tear his gaze away from, and found that the Weasley girl had turned away to face the wall and was furiously wiping at her front. He looked back at Scorpius with a sickening sense of realization.

"I'll advise you to keep your son away from my daughter, Malfoy," Ron finally said, kicking himself mentally for not having warned Rosie about the Malfoys earlier. Hopefully, whatever Scorpius had done to put her in such a state earlier, and now this, would teach her to leave well enough alone.

"Nothing would bring me greater pleasure, I assure you."

"Randy bugger'd better keep his hands to himself, I mean it."

"What?" The girl let out a sob and ran inside. Draco didn't dare let himself think about Scorpius' reaction, as he now found himself facing the business end of Weasley's wand. "What did you just call my son?"

"I said: keep that scrawny pervert away from Rose."

"You keep that tart away from Scorpius then!" Though he knew Weasley had the advantage, Draco took out his own wand. "What did I tell you about people wanting to ambush us?" he muttered to Scorpius, who seemed more interested in the shop and that silly girl than the fact that his father was being threatened in public by one of Britain's most notorious thugs.

"I catch either of you lurking around here again, I'll have Magical Law Enforcement pick you up."

"I catch anyone in your family sniffing around mine, I'll show you the same courtesy."

With a grimace, Ron lowered his wand. Malfoy really wasn't worth the hassle, though his wand hand itched to make the git pay for hurting Rosie's feelings. "Get the hell out of here before I change my mind and contact them now."

"With pleasure. All right, Scorpius, let's go." Draco walked the first few steps backward, not trusting Weasley not to hit him with a jinx when his back was turned, but at a frown from Scorpius Draco finally turned around to walk down the street.

They continued in sullen silence almost all the way to Gringott's. Finally, however, Draco couldn't restrain himself any more. "In the name of all your ancestors, you're in love with her! My son is in love with a Weasley whelp! I don't think I've ever been so revolted in my life."

Scorpius' face was ashen and he was slumped like a beaten puppy. He looked so miserable Draco might have been concerned, were it not for the cause. "She's a Weasley-Granger, Father," he mumbled.

"I don't care! As if that's even supposed to be an improvement! The whole lot of them are despicable." He thought quickly. "Clearly, emergency measures are called for. Your grandmother will know what to do. Just pray your grandfather never gets wind of this, or there'll be hell to pay." Draco looked at his son with pity. "Come on, Scorpius, let's go home."


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: Some of you may have noticed that I've changed the title. This one better reflects the emotional tone I'm trying to convey. Thanks so much for all the kind words on the previous chapter!_

Ron stood outside the door to Rose's bedroom, debating what to do. She'd scarcely said three words to him since the encounter with Malfoy, and as soon as Hermione had dismissed her from supper she'd run upstairs and slammed the door shut. He'd wanted to go after her right away, but held himself back, waiting until Hugo had finished—or, rather, until Hermione had satisfied herself that he'd fairly earned the "detention" Neville had given him to do over the summer—and then helped Hermione with the washing-up. Once that was done and she had gone into her study to attend to some work she'd brought home, he stole upstairs in the hopes he could find a way to make things right.

If he rested his cheek against the wood, he could hear her sniffling on the other side. The realization that she was crying, and that he was somehow—though he wasn't really sure how—responsible for her tears, made him feel lower than a squashed Flobberworm. When did things go wrong between them? Why did this have to be so hard?

There was nothing he wouldn't do to make her happy. He and Rose had always had a special bond between them, closer than she had with Hermione and he did with Hugo. She'd always been _his_ Rosie, his wild-haired bundle of nervous energy and questions and curiosities and, as she'd begun to grow, arms and legs. Six weeks shy of seventeen, she was only a head shorter than him, still with the coltish figure (all arms and legs and knees and elbows) she'd had when she was twelve. Very little escaped her notice, very little failed to excite her interest or imagination, though she lacked Hermione's mental organizational skills. She was very much his daughter in that respect, putting off homework and studying until the very last minute, but Hermione's at the same time, earning perfect scores on almost any exam set before her. He'd been even more disappointed than she had when she'd lost out on the Dumbledore Bursary; not that they needed the money, not at all, but he knew Rose was far brighter than Scorpius Malfoy.

He groaned inwardly. Scorpius Malfoy. What was his part in this? Ron almost wished he hadn't let George talk him in to eavesdropping on Rose and Verthandi this afternoon. He didn't like the conclusion Verthandi'd come to—that Rose fancied Scorpius—but had managed to convince himself she was wrong until that confrontation with Malfoy outside the shop. Now, he wasn't so sure. He hoped desperately she was wrong, and that all this was some school rivalry or other adolescent tiff that would soon be forgotten by summer's end. He didn't care to contemplate what the consequences might be if Verthandi proved to be right.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Ron steeled himself and knocked quietly on the door. "Rose? Rosie, it's Dad, can I come in?"

There was a sniffle, then he heard through the door, "No! Go away."

"Rosie, please. Let me in. I just want to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you or anyone else right now! Can't you just leave me alone?"

He switched tacks and tried a more authoritarian approach. "Don't make me break this Locking Charm."

"What's going on here?"

He turned to see Hermione had reached the top of the stairs. "Rose won't let me in."

"Well, don't force your way in, Ron. If she doesn't want to talk to anyone now, just let her be. She'll talk when she's ready."

"But she's crying."

"Really?" She came over and pressed her ear to the wood. "She'll be fine," she finally said, taking his arm in an effort to lead him away. "C'mon, it's bedtime anyway."

He followed obediently. "How do you know she'll be fine?"

"I seem to recall crying myself to sleep many a night when I was her age," she said with a smile, "and I wasn't permanently damaged."

"You did? When? How come I didn't know about this?"

"For one thing, because it was usually because of something you'd done or said."

"Me? Like what?"

Hermione turned away from the armoire, where she'd been hanging up her robes, and planted her hands on her hips. "Does the name Lavender Brown ring any bells?"

"Oh." He sat down on the bed to remove his socks and shoes. "Blimey, I haven't thought of her in ages."

"Nor have I. But when you're a girl Rose's age and you fancy a boy, you tend to lack objectivity and perspective." She pulled her nightdress over her head and slipped her arms through the sleeves, then stepped out of her knickers and Banished them to the laundry hamper.

Ron tossed his shirt and trousers on the chair in the corner. "So you think this is about a boy as well?"

"As well? Who else thinks it's about a boy?"

"Verthandi. Apparently Rose was all shirty earlier today because Scorpius Malfoy didn't talk to her on the train or something, and Verthandi suggested Rose was upset because she fancies him."

Hermione, who was seated at her vanity brushing her hair, turned to him with a surprised look on her face. "Scorpius Malfoy? Draco's son?"

"You know of any other Malfoys?"

She made a face, then turned back to her mirror. "I thought she had something going with Spencer Finnigan."

"I did too, but apparently he's 'manky'." Clad only in his boxer shorts, Ron pulled back the bedcovers and stretched out beneath them, his hands folded behind his head, watching Hermione as she went through her bedtime rituals. "Draco and Scorpius came by the shop today, in fact." He watched her eyebrows go up in her reflection. "Didn't actually come inside, though."

"Why not?"

"Er... you could say there was a bit of a set-to."

"Oh, really?" She got up from the bench and came over to join him in the bed. "What did you say to them?"

"What makes you think I said anything?" She gave him a look that said, "because I know you that well." "All right, so I may have told them to bugger off."

Hermione turned off the bedside lamp and lay down beside him. "What did you do that for?"

"Blimey, Hermione, he—Draco, that is—was rude to Rose! I had to defend her."

"Maybe you'd better tell me everything that happened, from the beginning."

So he did, from the moment Rose stepped off the Hogwarts Express, until Draco and his son slunk away from the shop. He repeated as much of what was said from memory as he could, including what he'd overheard Rose and Verthandi talking about. "Now do you understand?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said softly, rolling towards him to rest her arm over his waist. "No wonder Rose is upset."

"Care to enlighten me, then?"

"Verthandi's right: Rose does fancy Scorpius Malfoy."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Weren't you paying attention? She told him she was working in the joke shop this summer in the hope he might stop by." Ron groaned loudly. "Don't you go giving her a hard time about it, Ron," she said sternly. "She's upset because you embarrassed her."

"_I_ embarrassed her?" he exclaimed, sitting up. "Did you hear what I said Draco said about her?"

Gentle pressure from her hand brought him back to a supine position. "Yes, I heard you, and I'm sure that's a big part of it as well. But you... you made things worse for her by insulting Scorpius in front of his father. You called him a _pervert_, for Merlin's sake. You let Draco provoke you into lashing out, just like you used to do when we were still in school." She moved closer to kiss him, then lay her head on his chest. "You always did have to play the part of the knight defending a lady's honor."

"So that's why you married me." He squeezed her bum, pulling her closer against him.

"Among other things," she said with a giggle.

He relaxed his hold on Hermione with a sigh. "So what do I do to make it up to her?"

The mattress shifted as she propped herself up on her elbow. "You don't."

"I don't?"

"No. I think I'll cancel all my appointments tomorrow morning and pay a call on Grazia, and take Rose with me."

"Grazia? Who's that?"

He swore he could hear her roll her eyes in the dark. "Draco's wife."

"Oh. Wait a tic—" He started to sit up again. "You're not taking Rose to their _house_, are you? Are you mad?"

"Not at all," she said, pushing him back down and resting her finger over his lips. "Look... if we go during working hours Draco probably won't be at home, but Scorpius might. I can have a nice social visit with Grazia, maybe get a feel for what she might know or think about Scorpius' feelings on the matter—have you considered he might fancy Rose in return?—apologize for the things you said to her husband and son, and see if... see if we can work something out."

"Work something out."

"Yes."

"You _approve_ of this? You think it's okay that Rose might fancy Scorpius _Malfoy_? Son of Draco Malfoy, grandson of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy? Y'know, the former Death Eaters?"

"That was twenty-five years ago. As for what either of us thinks, it's immaterial: what matters is what Rose thinks and how she feels." Ron made a noise of displeasure. "Would you just trust me, please?"

"I trust you, but I still don't like it. I don't see how any of this can come to any good for Rose."

"You can't protect her from everything, Ron. Sooner or later, the fledglings have to learn to fly." She kissed him again, then lay down on her side of the bed. "Besides, this may turn out to be nothing. It could be a passing fancy, or maybe we're completely wrong and Rose just thinks Scorpius is nothing but a prat."

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

* * *

"Rose, don't slouch, it's bad for your spine."

With an irritated huff, Rose tried to straighten her posture. It was hard. When she was with her dad it wasn't so bad because he was still taller than her, but she absolutely towered over her mum. She felt like a bloody giraffe, even more so today thanks to the enormous spot that had erupted on her chin overnight. "Do we have to be here, Mum?" she said, not trying to conceal the whine in her voice. "Why'd you make me come along? Couldn't you have done this alone?"

Before Hermione could answer, the door they were standing before swung open to reveal a petite woman a few years younger than Hermione, with short dark hair and blue eyes, dressed in robes that had obviously been very well-tailored. Rose remembered having seen her at King's Cross once or twice. "Yes?" the woman said, her accented voice hesitant but not unwelcoming.

"Grazia Malfoy?"

"Yes."

Hermione took a step forward and thrust out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is my daughter Rose. She and your son, Scorpius, are schoolmates."

The woman took Hermione's proffered hand but kept her gaze on Rose. "Rose Grang—Ah!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I've heard so much about you! Please come in, please." She stepped aside to let them in, then closed the door behind her. "This is such a surprise, I was not expecting this."

"I understand that, Signora Malfoy," Hermione said, "and I apologize for the intrusion. I've been meaning to call on you for ages, but the time never really seemed right. I hope we're not inconveniencing you in any way."

"Not at all, Her-Her—"

"Hermione."

"_Mi scusi_. Please, call me Grazia. Signora Malfoy is my mother-in-law." She led them into a sumptuously furnished sitting room, well-lit by windows that reached from floor to ceiling. An easel with a partially-completed painting stood by one window that had been opened to let in the warm summer air. A bay on the south end of the room held a piano. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Coffee would be wonderful, thank you," Hermione said as she sat down on the settee Grazia indicated, tucking her robes around her. "What a beautiful sitting room you have here!"

"Thank you very much. It is my favorite room in this house." She picked up her wand from a delicate-looking stand and gave it a flick. Almost instantaneously, a house-elf dressed in a frock coat of green with silver accents appeared, carrying a tray with three demitasses of espresso. "Thank you," Grazia said to the servant, placing two of the demitasses on the table before Hermione and Rose and lifting her own before her. The house-elf bowed and disappeared.

Grazia kept her gaze on Rose as she gently stirred her espresso, a smile never quite leaving her face. Rose squirmed under her scrutiny and her mother's silent disapproval of her fidgeting, manifested in her tightly pursed lips. Then, after taking a sip, Grazia set the demitasse on the table and said, "Hermione, I must say, my son's tales about your daughter do not do her justice."

Rose, having just taken her first-ever taste of espresso, nearly spat it back out in horrified embarrassment; in her effort to avoid doing so, she was overtaken by a violent fit of coughing and spluttering.

"Oh, dear, I am so terribly sorry!" Grazia exclaimed. She hastily Transfigured Rose's espresso into a glass of water. "Please forgive me, I did not mean to cause you such distress."

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked with concern as Rose continued to cough. With tears streaming from her eyes and her cheeks on fire, she'd bent over to hide her head between her knees. "Grazia, is there a washroom nearby where Rose can recover?"

"Yes, of course." She turned and pointed in the direction they'd come from, instructing Rose to look for a painting of a harlequin. Rose, grateful for the pretext, fled for safety.

She retained enough self-control not to slam the bathroom door shut, but locked it and then slid down until she was seated on the floor, her back against the door, and pressed her hands against her face, choking down a sob. "Mortified" didn't even begin to describe how she felt. She wanted to kill Mum for dragging her here, and Dad for leaving her at Mum's mercy by leaving for work without getting her up in time to accompany him. How _could_ he? Merlin only knew what he'd told Mum last night to make her think coming to the Malfoys' house was anything but the absolute worst idea in the history of bad ideas. Did they want her to die from the humiliation?

And Mrs. Malfoy. Rose closed her eyes and thumped her head against the door. She had only ever seen Scorpius' mum from a distance before, and even then had not given her more than a glance or two, and so had not realized how pretty she was, how composed, elegant, graceful—everything Rose was not and never would be. She wasn't just a giraffe next to Mrs. Malfoy, she was more like a drunken, one-legged ostrich. It was a wonder she hadn't broken the delicate espresso cup or cracked her shin on the table when she'd jumped to her feet.

Well, she'd learned one thing from this disaster: though he mostly resembled his father, Scorpius had inherited his dark blue eyes from his mother. Not that it mattered anymore, because after yesterday's and today's catastrophes, she'd never be able to bring herself to look at him again. What the bloody hell did Mrs. Malfoy mean about Scorpius' "tales" about her? She cringed to think of the laughs he and his parents must have had at her expense. They'd certainly got plenty of material to keep them entertained all summer now, thanks to her awful parents. It was just too painful to contemplate.

Rose unrolled a handful of toilet paper and used it to wipe her eyes and blow her nose, then climbed to her feet. She should return to her mum and Mrs. Malfoy soon, lest Mum come looking for her and embarrass her even more. Unlocking and opening the door as quietly as she could, she poked her head out and looked around. Which way was the sitting room? She couldn't remember. There was the harlequin, hanging on the wall opposite, but she had no idea which direction she'd come from. The sitting room couldn't be that hard to find—this was just an ordinary London townhouse, if rather richly furnished and in a plummy neighborhood—so she took a deep breath and turned left.

Rose realized her mistake when she'd passed the same bust of Agrippina the Elder four times. She tried retracing her steps, but to no avail: wherever she went, Agrippina seemed to follow, and the harlequin was nowhere to be found. On the outside this might be an ordinary London townhouse, but the Malfoys had obviously had the interior magically expanded. It struck her as odd that they would, since there was only the three of them living here. Whereas she couldn't seem to avoid tripping over her brother and parents when they were all at home, it seemed as if the Malfoys could spend an entire weekend in this house and never once cross paths with each other except by design. What a rather lonely way to live, she thought.

As she passed a familiar set of double doors, she heard a sound like the scrape of chair legs on bare wood that caused her to stop and turn back. One of the doors had been left cracked open, but she couldn't see who or what was in there. Maybe, she thought, a house-elf was in there tidying up, and would direct her back to her mum. With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension—she hoped it wasn't Mr. Malfoy in there—she slowly pushed open the door.

Her first impression was that the room was used predominantly, if not exclusively, by the males in the house. Whereas the sitting room had been warm and airy, this one, a study or office of some sort, was cool and dark, with only table lamps to provide illumination. At one end sat a large desk; at the other was a fireplace with a mantel made of what looked like dark green marble, two sturdy armchairs, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases with a stepladder attached to a track along the wall on both sides of the fireplace. Rose thought she'd give her left arm for the opportunity to browse those shelves. All of the décor, including the rugs and upholstery, was in shades of green and silver.

What really caught Rose's attention and made her heart leap up in her throat, however, was the familiar figure seated at the table in the center of the room. In the six years she'd known him, including the past two when their Prefect's responsibilities had thrown them into each other's company on a regular and prolonged basis, she didn't think she'd ever seen Scorpius looking so relaxed and at ease. He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a tailored shirt and trousers, but he'd rolled his shirt sleeves up past his elbows and had loosened his collar by undoing the top button. He'd even kicked off his shoes, something she'd never seen him do before, not even when they'd stayed in the library until half two in the morning studying for exams. His workspace was cluttered with books, scrolls, and loose pieces of parchment, and near his left hand was an inkpot and quill holder with three or four eagle quills of varying plumages stuck in it. Scorpius was leaning back in his chair, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands clasped together behind his head, his pale blond hair looking like he'd been raking his fingers through it as he tried to work through a particularly complex problem—a habit of his she was very, pleasantly, familiar with—and in the air in front of him, in markings of bright yellow-orange, was a mathematical equation she couldn't even begin to make heads or tails out of.

Rose thought it was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

It was to be expected, then, that her mouth would pre-empt her sense. "Merlin's beard, is Salazar Slytherin your interior decorator?" she blurted.

Her immediate reaction was to clap her hands over her mouth. His came in stages. First he lowered his arms and turned to see who'd spoken to him. Then, as soon as he recognized Rose, he leaped to his feet out of polite habit. Unfortunately, he hadn't pushed his chair far enough away from the table, and consequently collided with it on his way up, which forced him back down. Rubbing his bruised thighs and looking sheepish, he stood up again, more slowly this time.

"Rose," he said, "it-it's good to see you." He glanced down and proceeded to roll down his shirt sleeves. "What brings you here?"

She carefully lowered her hands. "Er… my mum, actually."

"Sorry?"

"My mum brought me here. She, er, she thought it would be a good idea to have a talk with your mum about… about what happened yesterday." At his puzzled expression she added hurriedly, "It's just Mum's way. She's a lawyer, she's always going on about some cause or another."

"Oh."

Feeling slightly more sure of herself, Rose came all the way in the room and looked around. "So what is it with all the Slytherin décor in here?" she asked. "Are you a descendant?"

Scorpius stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the table. "This is my father's office. He was in Slytherin, and my grandparents, and their parents, and so forth."

"Wow." She felt herself irresistibly drawn towards the bookshelves. "So are you the first person in your family's history not to be in Slytherin?"

"Oh, no." She heard him approach, but kept her back to him, instead tilting her head to read the spines. "My mother didn't even go to Hogwarts, so of course she wasn't in Slytherin, but I had a few cousins who were in other houses. Do you know Ted Lupin?"

"Of course I know Teddy, he's engaged to my cousin Victoire."

"I didn't realize that. Anyway, Ted's grandmother and my grandmother are sisters."

"Really?" Rose exclaimed, turning towards him. "Why, that practically makes us family!"

"I'd never thought of it that way before. So then you probably know that Ted's mother was in Hufflepuff." Rose nodded.

His expression turned thoughtful as he fingered a cloth-bound volume. With a fluttery feeling in her stomach, Rose found herself studying Scorpius' hand and wrist. She was surprised to realize just how large his hand was; the fine bone structure made it look smaller than it actually was, but he had astonishingly long fingers and, she reckoned, he was one of only a handful of boys in their year taller than her. Unlike her, however, he was always composed and well-put-together. "Drunken, one-legged ostrich" was not a phrase she could ever see applying to him.

"Another cousin of mine was in Gryffindor—Sirius Black, have you heard of him?" Scorpius said, stirring Rose out of her reverie.

"We learned about him in History of Magic our fifth year, remember? All the history related to the war with Voldemort." Only too late, she remembered learning about the part that Scorpius' family had played during that era, and silently cursed herself for bringing it up.

"That's right, we did," Scorpius said. He pulled out the book he'd been examining and opened it, flipping through the pages. "So, anyway, I'm not the first in my _entire_ family to be Sorted outside of Slytherin, though I am the first Malfoy. Father was extremely unhappy—he said the only saving grace was that I was put in Ravenclaw. I think he'd have disowned me outright if I'd been Sorted into Gryffindor." Rose laughed. "What?"

"Your dad sounds like _my_ dad."

"How did your father feel about you being Sorted into Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, he was fine with that," she said with a grin, "he just didn't want me to end up in Slytherin. But it's fine, because Al's in Slytherin, so he gets all the grief. Everyone else is in Gryffindor, though, just like every bloody Weasley since the dawn of time."

Scorpius smiled, a look Rose rarely ever saw from him, and returned his attention to the book in his hands. "What's that you've got there?" she asked, craning her neck to get a look at the page. He angled the book towards her and she came closer, taking hold of the edge nearest her so they were both holding the book. The page he'd opened to was covered in mathematical symbols. "Is this related to what you were doing when I came in?" He looked up as she gestured towards the equation, still glowing in the air over the table. "What is all that? It's not anything I recognize."

"It's, er, it's… it's physics, actually."

She had to turn herself slightly towards Scorpius to look up at him. "Physics? What's that?"

He pressed his lips together. "It's, er, a Muggle branch of science."

"Really? I didn't know you studied Muggle science."

"Mother thought it would be a good idea for something to do this summer. She thought it would challenge me." He took the book from Rose and closed it with a snap. "She's right about that."

"What d'you mean?"

He turned to re-shelve the book. "It's just very, very difficult, not like anything we've ever studied at Hogwarts. In addition, Father doesn't like the idea of me studying anything Muggle-related, and Grandfather would have a fit if he found out, so I have to take care to do it only when they're not around."

"That doesn't sound like a very conducive way to learn."

"It isn't. But, I've make the best of it."

"Why—" Rose started to ask, but her mum and Mrs. Malfoy chose that moment to enter the room.

"There you are," Hermione said. "We've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry. Got lost on my way back from the toilet." Beside her, Scorpius made a choking sound that she thought might have been a laugh.

"Well, we need to be going. I told Dad I'd bring you to the shop on my way to the office."

"Shop?" Grazia asked. "What shop is this?"

"My husband and brother-in-law own a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Weas—"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Scorpius interjected.

"A joke shop?" Grazia said, a look of amusement on her face. "How entertaining! And you enjoy spending time there with your father?" she asked Rose.

"I work there, during the summer holidays. Summer's their busiest time except for Christmas and right before April Fool's Day, so I come in and help."

"What a very conscientious and industrious daughter you are, Rose. Your parents must be so proud of you." Rose blushed. "Have you been there, Scorpius, to this joke shop?"

He glanced at Rose, then down at his feet. "Not quite."

"Well then, we must correct this," Grazia said with a smile.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality, Grazia," Hermione said. "It was a delight meeting you. I'm only sorry I didn't get a chance sooner."

"The pleasure was absolutely all mine," she said as the four of them, Rose and Scorpius trailing behind their mothers, headed for the front door. "I enjoyed your company very much, and I suspect Scorpius was pleased to have a special visitor as well."

"I hope we can do this again soon."

"As do I. _Ciao_, Hermione. _Ciao_, Rose. Have a lovely day."

"Bye, Mrs. Malfoy. Bye, Scorpius."

"Bye, Rose."

Grazia closed the door behind them and turned to her son, her face lit up with delight. "I see now why you find Rose so captivating," she said to him in Italian, her native language.

"Mother, you're embarrassing me," he said in like manner, though his eyes shone with pleasure and relief at her obvious approval.

"She must have your heart if she's got you walking around the house without shoes." She indicated his stocking-clad feet. "Her mother is a fascinating woman. Formidably intelligent, and very opinionated. I think I could have spent all day with her and never once grown tired of her company." Her arm linked through his, they went to the sitting room.

"Father disapproves."

"He does? Pity. I suppose I shall have to persuade him to change his mind."

"You'll have to be subtle about it."

Grazia winked at him. "Don't fret, Scorpius. I know what I'm doing." She picked up a paintbrush from the jar beside the easel and looked through her collection of paints. "Your Apparition license exam is tomorrow, is that correct?" she asked, in English this time.

"Yes, at 2 p.m.," he replied, also in English.

"_Bene_. If it goes well—and perhaps even if it doesn't—I think a brief detour to Diagon Alley will be in order, don't you agree?" She looked over her shoulder at Scorpius. "Perhaps a visit to a certain joke shop?"

Scorpius relaxed his face into a rare grin. "I'll be sure to bring my money pouch."


	3. Chapter 3

Draco looked up from his ledger as Grazia came into the library, wearing the dressing gown he'd bought for her on his last trip to China and carrying two goblets of wine, and set down his quill and pushed his chair away from the desk. "Has Scorpius gone to bed?"

Accepting his unspoken invitation, she sat on his lap and handed him one of the goblets. "He's so worried about the Apparition license examination tomorrow," she said. "I suggested a good night's sleep might be good for his concentration."

"I bet you did," Draco said with a wolfish grin. He brought one arm up around Grazia's waist to support her and took a sip of the wine. As the ruby-rich taste flowed across his tongue and down his throat his eyes widened and he murmured in appreciative surprise. "You must really want whatever it is you're trying to seduce me for," he said.

Tiny crow's feet appeared at the corners of her eyes as she looked at him over the rim of her goblet. "What do you mean, Draco?"

He took another sip of wine before answering. "You didn't open a bottle of two-hundred-year-old goblin-made wine just to cleanse my palate."

"Mm, I don't know," she murmured, dipping her finger in her wine and rubbing it over Draco's lower lip before leaning in for a kiss. "Why do I have to have an ulterior motive?" she asked afterwards.

Draco took the opportunity to adjust his seat as he laughed out loud. "After nineteen years, do you think I'm that easy to fool?" He leaned forward to set his goblet on the desk, then wrapped both arms around Grazia's waist to draw her closer. "You'd best tell me now what it is you want, so I can say no, and then you can scheme and plot your way to having it anyway."

She threw back her head and laughed. "You are much too clever,_caro_." She set her goblet beside his, then brought her arms up around his neck. "You are also too much a spoilsport. Where is the amusement in playing a game by oneself? Besides," she continued, nuzzling his ear, "I was looking forward to seducing you."

His laugh this time, little more than a chuckle, came from deep within his chest. "Just because I know the outcome in advance doesn't mean I can't still play along." Cupping the back of her head in his hand to guide her face closer to his, he said, "Aren't you the one always saying that it's not who wins or loses, it's how you play the game?"

Her lips curved in a smile. "Much too clever," she murmured just before capturing his mouth in a deep and passionate kiss.

When they broke apart some time later he was breathless, his shirt had been unbuttoned halfway to his waist, and his groin throbbed painfully with every beat of his pulse. Grazia's lips were swollen and her dressing gown had slipped off her shoulder, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of an exquisitely formed breast.

"Shall we go to bed, or--?" She looked meaningfully at the lush carpet that covered the floor, then back at him, her dark eyes glittering.

"'How you play the game,' my arse," Draco growled. "You are hell-bent on winning tonight." He shifted his seat again to find some relief. "I think I'd better find out what's at stake before I let this go any further."

Her pout reminded him of the tempestuous, provocative girl she'd been when he first met her nearly two decades ago. He'd not been able to resist her then, and could scarcely do so now. That she could trace the unbroken, untainted lineage of her pureblood wizarding family to the waning years of the Roman Empire was merely the icing on the cake, and all Draco had needed to tell his parents to get his mother's blessing and his father's enthusiastic approval. For his part, Draco had been so besotted with Grazia Veniziani from the first moment he saw her, she could have been a Muggle and he'd have renounced everything he knew and cherished just to have her. That he hadn't had to do so, that in fact Draco'd had to convince her father that he was a worthy suitor despite the cloud of disgrace and scandal that lingered over the Malfoy and Black name because of their ignominious affiliation with Voldemort, only made the winning of her far sweeter than any easy victory.

"Don't you trust me, Draco?" she asked, threading her fingers through his hair to comb it back from his temple.

"Trust isn't the issue. If you were truly guileless you wouldn't be able to drive me half mad with desire the way you do."

"Very well," she sighed. She leaned over to retrieve the two goblets of wine, handing one to Draco. She waited until he had taken a swallow, then said with an air of feigned nonchalance, "Scorpius and I had a couple of visitors today."

Draco stiffened. He could count on one hand the number of people apart from family who'd spontaneously visited them in the fifteen years since he returned to England. Even after all this time, despite his success in the import-export trade, he remained an outcast from British wizarding society. Scorpius seemed to have coped well enough at school, though he'd endured numerous taunts his first year until he'd managed to gain the upper hand after being ambushed by a gang of students, all of whom he refused to identify, even by House. Grazia, however, had fared the worst of all, in Draco's estimation. She never complained, but he knew she longed for friends and companions. He refused to stoop to paying people to pretend to be her friends, though, the way his parents had done for him.

"Who came to visit?" he asked cautiously.

"A woman and her daughter," she said, studying the contents of her goblet. "The girl is a classmate of Scorpius'. They seemed to be quite affectionate with one another. Scorpius could scarcely takes his eyes off her."

Draco ground his teeth together. "The woman--did her hair look like an enormous bird's nest?"

She gave him a puzzled frown. "Not at all." Draco relaxed slightly. "The girl's, though!" Grazia continued, smiling. "It must have been a nightmare for her mother to comb through it when she was a little girl. Such a beautiful shade of red, though."

The tension returned, aggravated by the sensation of acid burning through his stomach. "Red hair?" Grazia nodded. "Tall, skinny girl, no figure to speak of, probably with food stains down her front?"

"No food stains, and she may not have a figure yet, but she'll be stunning when she grows into her height." She glanced at him coyly. "Do you know them?"

"Yes," he ground out, clenching his wand hand into a fist. "And they are not to set foot in this house again. If either of them--if anyone in that despicable family--comes near you or Scorpius again, I'll--"

She drew back from him. "Draco, what is wrong with you? What are you talking about? What family?"

"Weasleys."

"I don't understand."

"Malfoys do not associate with Weasleys."

"Who are Weasleys, and why don't we associate with them?"

Draco studied his wife's face carefully. He could tell when she was being deliberately obtuse to manipulate him. It was another facet of the mind games they enjoyed playing with each other. This wasn't one of those times. "The Weasleys," he said somewhat haughtily, "are an ill-bred, ill-mannered, dull-witted, prone to physical violence, ridiculously fertile clan of blood traitors."

"Oh, no, Draco, you've got them all wrong."

"Do I? That woman who came here today, Hermione Granger--" He felt his stomach churn at the mere thought of her. "--is a Mu- a Muggle-born." He'd caught himself just in time; Grazia was far too elegant a woman for such a foul word as "Mudblood."

"So?"

"So? Grazia, the Weasleys are as ancient a pureblood family as my mother's. They shouldn't be polluting it--"

"Polluting?" She got off his lap. "You just said they were 'ill-bred, ill-mannered, and dull-witted.' From what little I saw of her, Hermione Granger is none of those things. The worst you can think of to say about her is that her parents were Muggles!"

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "When was the last time a Muggle-born joined your family?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Never, but you know that. What are you getting at?"

"Your father practically had _me_ performing like a trained seal just to get his permission to ask you to dinner."

"Considering we'd gone well beyond dinner dates by that point..." She smirked. "You didn't have to earn Papa's approval because your magical ancestry was deficient, Draco. You know that wasn't his concern."

He turned his face away from her. "I know," he said bitterly.

Grazia bent over him, resting her hands on the chair's arms. "I didn't fall in love with your family tree, either," she said softly. Draco looked back at her. "If family honor and integrity was all that mattered to me, I would never have agreed to come to England with you." She leaned closer. "You are in no position to scorn anyone's bloodline, _caro_." Her lips pressed lightly against his.

"That doesn't change the fact that the Weasleys are a bunch of crude, foul-mouthed, bad-tempered..." he began when she pulled away, but she silenced him by laying her fingertips across his mouth.

"That may be your opinion of them, but I have only met two members of that family, and I found them both polite, charming, and intelligent. More importantly, Scorpius is obviously fond of Rose." Draco closed his eyes and shook his head. "I've promised to take him to that--"

His eyes snapped open. "What? Absolutely not! I forbid you to take him anywhere near that place!"

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "You _forbid_ me? _Arrogante_!"

"All right." He held up his hands in submission. "I _beg_ you not to take him there. Please."

"You can beg all you want, Draco. I have already made a promise to Scorpius. And," she added, taking one of his hands and guiding it to the loose knot in the sash of her dressing gown, "I am intrigued by what you have told me about Rose's family. I would like to see for myself if these Weasleys are truly as horrible as you've made them out to be."

Draco growled low in his throat as she shrugged the now-loose dressing gown from her shoulders and let it pool around her feet, then stepped free of it to climb once more on his lap, straddling his thighs. As her fingers worked nimbly to unfasten his trousers he threw his head back and groaned, "If they're half as horrible as you are devious and provocative, _bellissima_, then I'm in for a world of trouble."

* * *

Scorpius couldn't help grinning exultantly at his mother when he emerged from the Apparition Test Center's examination hall. The glow of pride on her face when she realized he'd passed the exam and had been granted his license to Apparate filled him with warmth. "_Congratulazioni_!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat in the waiting lounge to embrace him and kiss his cheeks. "Was it as difficult as you feared?"

"It wasn't bad at all," he said as he held the door open for her. "A few of the others taking the test were splinched, but the examiner said I passed with flying colors."

"I had no doubt you would excel, Scorpius." She reached up to caress his cheek. "Do you feel up to Side-Along Apparating?"

He considered it carefully before responding, "I think so. Do you want me to take you somewhere in particular?"

"Well," she said, her expression playful, "I had thought we could see where Rose is spending her summer."

The momentary thrill he'd felt at the sound of Rose's name just as rapidly evaporated. "Father doesn't want me going there."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, if I were you."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged and made a gesture of indifference with her hand. "I was able to convince him that it couldn't do either of us any harm just to _see_ the place."

"Mother! You didn't." Scorpius could hardly contain his elation.

"Of course I did. I want to see this joke shop, too. And since I've never been, and you are now properly licensed, I thought you could Apparate us there together."

"Thank you, Mother." He bent down to kiss her cheek, then took hold of her hand. Concentrating intently on his memory of the window display of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he made a quick turn, and the two of them Disapparated.

Ron looked up when the bell over the door let out a loud belch and a sigh that sounded just like Charlie--not coincidentally, since Ron's nephew Fred had surreptitiously recorded it last Christmas when Charlie had once again reminded them all why he was still a bachelor. His brother's indigestion and Christmas were far from Ron's thoughts, however, when he recognized the tall young man with pale-blond hair and a narrow, pointed face who had just entered the shop. Ron glanced quickly at the woman accompanying Malfoy's son and realized he recognized her as well, from King's Cross. She pointed up at the bell and giggled, a reaction Ron would not have expected from the woman who married Draco Malfoy.

"She's not at all what I had imagined," Hermione had said last night as they were washing up after dinner.

"What did you imagine?" he asked, disturbed by the idea of Hermione imagining _anything_ about Malfoy.

"I don't know. A Pansy Parkinson clone, I suppose." She charmed a dishrag to wipe down the table. "Don't get me wrong: she's very posh and sophisticated, and probably as pureblood as they come. But she also has charisma and style, which Pansy couldn't have for all the magic or Galleons in the world." She Summoned the broom and handed it to Ron. "I'd love to know their story."

"Whose?"

"Draco and Grazia's, of course. I'm dying to find out how they met and how she ended up with him, of all people."

"Maybe he arranged to have her hit in the back of the head with a Bludger."

Hermione laughed. "Or Goyle's fist."

"A Confundus Charm might do it."

"So would an Imperius Curse, though that's desperate even for Malfoy. Either way, she certainly seemed lucid enough."

Ron had pondered this later in the evening, when he'd settled into his favorite chair to review the Quidditch standings in the _Daily Prophet_. Chudley was, as usual, ranked near the bottom. Their only victory this season had come when Ballycastle's Keeper had fallen off his broom and the Cannons had managed to score twenty-three goals on the undefended hoops before the Bats' Seeker caught the Snitch. Ron's mind wasn't on Quidditch, however, nor on whether the Cannons had a chance against the Kenmare Kestrels in this weekend's match; rather, he couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy and his family.

By far Scorpius was the greater mystery. All joking aside about using underhanded means to get a wife like the woman Hermione described, Ron could entertain the possibility that Malfoy might have other attributes that some women might find appealing, though he preferred not to take that line of thought too far. Scorpius, on the other hand, didn't make sense. What little Ron had seen of him the day before wasn't all that bad, really; he seemed polite, if a little standoffish--not a barefaced snob the way Draco had always been, but more quiet and reserved--and had clearly been troubled by the altercation and its effect on Rosie. While Ron could remember having seen Draco distressed before, he couldn't think of any occasion when Malfoy's concern had been for someone else.

More importantly, Rose seemed to _like_ Scorpius, even think highly of him, apart from any notion of fancying him. She was naturally generous and had always been kind and considerate of others. In that regard she was the ideal Hufflepuff, something Ron had been proud to acknowledge once he'd got over the initial shock of her being the first Weasley in generations not to be Sorted into Gryffindor. Even so, she was discriminating with her affections; she might treat everyone with equal thoughtfulness, but she chose her friends carefully. In the past couple of years, as adolescence had run rampant and she'd morphed into a human beanpole, she'd grown more self-conscious and awkward as well, trying to make herself appear as small and inconspicuous as possible even in familiar surroundings. Consequently, that Scorpius Malfoy seemed to have such an impact on her behavior was very telling. While it was true that the day before she'd been calling for the boy's head on a Fanged Frisbee and the rest of him to be fed to mountain trolls in bite-sized portions, Ron had been forced to consider since then that her wrath may actually been disguising very different feelings.

Merlin's beard, his little girl was in love.

And now here was the object of her fancy and his mother in the shop, admiring the row of cages containing Chameleon Ferrets, which could change the color of their fur to match their surroundings, and the ever-popular Pygmy Puffs. On the wall behind the cages was a tank containing a miniature mervillage, one of George's pet projects.

"Blimey, is that who I think it is?"

Ron turned to see his brother holding a stack of receipts. "Uh-huh. Brought his mum with him this time."

George sniggered as he dropped his load on the counter behind the till. "Is ickle Scorpikins not allowed to cross the street without Mummy or Daddy there to hold his hand?"

"You got me." He glanced over his shoulder at the curtain dividing the shop from the back rooms. "Rosie still back in the office?"

"Yeah, I've set her, Verthandi, and Freddo to sorting through invoices." He rubbed a spot on his brow just above his nose. "We've got to hire a file clerk. This bloody paperwork is out of control. I'm having nightmares about being buried alive under a mountain of order forms."

"Huh," Ron said. He scratched at his temple in a mocking gesture of thought. "Seems to me I remember saying something just like that back in March, but you said you could handle it."

"So I lied."

"I'll send an owl to the _Prophet_ placing an ad after closing."

George clapped him on the shoulder. "Brilliant, mate. Thanks." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter. "What should we do about them?" he asked, indicating Scorpius and his mother.

"Dunno," Ron said after a moment's thought. "Treat them like they were any other customer, I reckon."

"And if Daddy Draco shows his ugly puss again?"

"Deal with that if it happens?"

"Well, if it does, take it outside. With all the new Whiz-Bangs inventory, this place is a powder keg. I'm not keen on having to explain to my wife why our son and I have been blown to smithereens."

"What about _my_ wife?" Ron asked. "What do I tell her?"

George gave him a look of unsympathetic amusement. "What you tell Hermione, dear brother, is none of my concern."

"Git."

The door chime let out a staccato burst of belches as a group of girls entered the shop and made a beeline for the WonderWitch products. Clustered together as they were, they blocked Ron's view of the Malfoys. One of them erupted into giggles as Charlie's relieved groan sounded overhead, and soon all of them were doing it. Ron raised an eyebrow at George, who just shook his head as if to say, "Thank Merlin my only child's a boy."

Instead he said, "Reckon I'd better see if they've made any progress back there. I wouldn't put it past Freddo to 'accidentally' Incendiate an entire stack."

The girls, chattering like a flock of magpies, came up to the counter en masse just as George disappeared. They each had a bundle of items to buy, and were so intent on continuing their rapid-fire conversation while Ron rang up their purchases, that it took him a while to work through them one by one. In the meantime, other customers had come in, including a spotty-faced warlock in a tatty knit cap and ragged cloak who Ron had run out several days before for trying to nick a set of Muggle gaming dice, so he found himself having to keep one eye on the warlock and another on the till so he didn't inadvertently count out too much change into whichever girl's hand was held out expectantly. Not that she'd notice, seeing as she hadn't so much as acknowledged Ron's existence when she dropped several tubes of Legilimency Lip-Gloss and a handful of Galleons on the counter.

"Uncle George sent me out here," Ron heard Rose say. "Said you might need some help."

"Yeah," he said with relief. He pointed with his chin in the direction of the warlock, who was lurking suspiciously around the Dirt Mark Doo-Dads. "Go see what he wants, will you? And keep a close eye on both his hands!" He handed the last of the girls her receipt and gave her a strained smile. "Thanks for coming in." She flicked her eyes at him, then followed her companions out of the shop without a word.

Automatically, Ron turned to the next person in the queue and said, "Welcome to Weas--"

"_Ciao_, Rose," Draco's wife said, smiling pleasantly.

Ron looked over his shoulder to see his daughter still standing there, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, a flush creeping up the sides of her neck. At that moment, the warlock, seizing what looked like a golden opportunity, tried to stuff a box of Miniature Ecuadorean Freeze-Dried Yodeling Acromantulas under his cloak. Ron, who'd been waiting for this, waved his wand at the warlock so that it let out a bang that had the Malfoys ducking for cover, their hands over the ears, and sent the warlock running out of the shop. "Bloody buggering bollocks!" Ron shouted, vaulting over the counter and going after the man, leaving Rose behind to chase him down the street.

"Is it always like this?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, emerging from her crouch with a look of amusement on her face. "No wonder you enjoy working here."

"Erm," Rose said, alternately staring at Scorpius and Mrs. Malfoy. "Erm, sometimes, yeah." She licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Er, hi." She gave them a weak smile, terrified anything more enthusiastic would lead to her lunch ending up on the floor.

"We wanted to surprise you," Mrs. Malfoy said.

Rose nodded. "You did."

"Is this a bad time?" Scorpius asked solicitously, a look of concern on his face.

"Oh no, not at all!" Rose exclaimed. "I just... I really didn't expect to see you here," she said, leaning her elbows on the counter and addressing herself to Scorpius. "Ever. Again." He gave a little nod of comprehension. "I'm glad you did--er, I mean, it's good to see you--that is, it's good you could come."

"It's a wonderful little shop," Mrs. Malfoy said. "_Fantastico_. I don't think I've ever seen any place quite like it before. Your father is obviously a very good businessman."

Pride warmed Rose's cheeks. "He is, yeah. Uncle George is always going on about new product ideas Dad comes up with." She glanced at Scorpius, then just as quickly looked away when she saw he was looking at her, and tried to hide her nervousness by tucking her hair behind her ears. "Erm, have you been here long?" she asked Mrs. Malfoy.

"We arrived a few minutes ago." She came closer to lay her small, pale hand over Rose's large, freckled ones. "Why don't you show Scorpius around and recommend something for him to buy? He's never been in a shop like this before, and I don't think he knows where to begin."

Flustered, Rose glanced at Scorpius; he was looking at his feet, but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. "Okay, sure. This way," she said, her voice gradually gaining strength and confidence as she came around the counter to lead him to the Whiz-Bangs.

"I've seen these before," he said thoughtfully, picking up a Basic Blaze Box and turning it over in his hands, studying it. "I had to confiscate some from a group of fourth-years after the Quidditch final." He looked up at Rose. "I didn't realize they came from your father's shop."

"Yeah, they're among their most popular products. Hugo smuggles 'em in faster than I can report him to Professor Longbottom." She smiled at Scorpius' quiet chuckle. "Actually, the Whiz-Bangs and the Skiving Snackboxes were what got the whole business off the ground. My uncles sold them while they were still at Hogwarts."

"I can't imagine Filch was too happy about that."

Rose laughed. "Considering they got expelled from school during their seventh year, I'd say not. Supposedly their entire inventory was on Filch's forbidden items list one year. Dad says I should be grateful I've never been at the business end of a Secrecy Sensor." She rocked back and forth on her heels. "So... erm... does your dad know you're here? He didn't seem too thrilled the other day."

"Mother brought me here as a reward," Scorpius said, unable to completely suppress his smile. He beckoned Rose closer and said in a low voice, "I just passed my Apparition license exam."

"Scorpius, that's wonderful!" For a moment, she almost let loose enough to hug him, but caught herself at the last second. In that instant, she thought he looked disappointed. "Congratulations! Was it hard?"

"Not really. I think I almost splinched myself on the return leg, though." He held out his hand, palm up, and wiggled his thumb back and forth. "The tip feels a little wobbly."

"I don't believe you for an instant," Rose said. "You were always best in lessons." She leaned against the display shelves and let out a sigh. "Since I don't turn seventeen until so late in the summer, I'm going to wait until the Christmas holiday to take the exam. Not that I have any hope of passing, seeing as I have yet to Disapparate successfully," she continued, picking at a loose thread on her robe.

"Maybe I could help," Scorpius said impulsively.

Her head tilted to one side as she looked up at him. "How?"

"Perhaps we could practice together." He hoped he wasn't coming across as too keen. He _was_ keen to spend more time with her, but he didn't want to frighten her off.

"When would we practice? Where? At school? You know there's no Apparating on the Hogwarts grounds."

"There are the Hogsmeade weekends. We could find an out-of-the-way alley in the village and practice there, if-if you didn't have other plans. Or," he added hopefully, "there's always the rest of summer."

She made a face that he couldn't read. "Between your dad and my job, that might be hard to pull off. Thanks for offering, though." She shrugged. "It's no big deal. The worst that'll happen if I fail the exam is that my cousin James'll make fun of me."

Scorpius scowled with contempt. "That's rude."

The tone of his voice caught Rose's attention. He'd been looking away from her as he spoke, so she took advantage of his momentary inattention to study him in profile, an activity she'd found herself doing rather frequently of late. For someone so generally soft-spoken, dignified, and unassuming, not prone to the sort of red-faced blustering that seemed to run rampant in her family, Scorpius had very sharp, almost harsh features, including a prominent, pointed chin, a long, narrow nose, and a high forehead. They weren't the kind of features one might normally find attractive--at least, she'd not heard of any girls who fancied Scorpius--but she liked the way his manner and appearance seemed to balance each other out. Plus his eyes were to die for, especially when she'd look up from whatever she was doing to find him watching her. They were so dark blue as to be almost black, and at times looking into them was like looking into the heart of the universe. And on those few occasions when he smiled, _really_ smiled, as if with genuine happiness, and he just happened to be looking her way...

Rose gave her head a vigorous shake to clear it. "Yeah, well, James has always been a bit of a pompous toerag," she said. "I'm used to it." She picked up a Spell-Checking Quill someone had mis-shelved and threaded it between her fingers. "What are your plans for the summer? Apart from teaching yourself physics, that is?" she added, teasing.

"Not much. We'll go visit my grandparents at the end of the month, but that's about it." He paused, then added, "Father's a very busy man and travels a lot, so I'm used to finding ways to keep myself occupied."

Something about the way he said that struck Rose as very sad. She remembered wandering around his house yesterday and thinking that one could spend an entire day there and not run into another human being. What a horribly lonely way to live, she thought.

"Where do your grandparents live?"

"Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy are in France, and Papa Veniziani is in... well, Venice, just like his name says."

"He's named for where he lives?" Scorpius nodded. "I've never been anywhere more exotic than Norway. Aunt Ginny took us all there for the Quidditch World Cup last summer."

"You showed me the pictures."

"I did? Blimey. I'd completely forgotten about that."

Scorpius remembered it as if it were only yesterday, though in fact it had been nearly a year ago, right at the beginning of term. They'd each found the other in the library researching an essay for Advanced Potions late one night, and had agreed that it made the most sense to sit at the same table where they could share books and compare notes. A bundle of photographs had fallen out of Rose's bag and scattered themselves across the table when she took out her quill and inkpot. His curiosity had been piqued, but he'd been reluctant to pry--at the time, he didn't know her all that well apart from the time they'd spent together in classes or fulfilling their Prefects' responsibilities, and wasn't sure if she still resented him for winning the Dumbledore Bursary by a mere two points--but she'd blurted out, "Just got these by owl post today," of her own accord, and then launched into a rapid explanation, accompanied by lots of arm-waving and some rather colorful language. He'd been enchanted by the way she seemed so at ease around him, unlike even the boys he'd shared a dormitory with for the previous five years, and a friendship had been born.

The picture that had caught his attention showed Rose and Lily Potter, grinning madly, faces painted in the colors of the teams they were going for, arms wrapped around each other, their hands occasionally making gestures at the camera. When Rose had got up to request a pass to the Restricted Section, he'd pinched it, the first time he'd ever done such a thing. He couldn't explain even to himself why he'd done it, or why he'd wanted that particular picture. Nonetheless, he found himself studying it over and over, smiling when Rose's image grinned and laughed, imitating the hand gestures she made, and later, as they'd come to spend more and more time together and he realized his feelings for her were evolving beyond simple friendly affection, running the tip of his finger over the contours of her face and wondering what it would be like to do that to the real thing.

"So, have you found anything you want to buy?" Rose asked, stirring Scorpius from his reverie.

"Hmm," he said, looking around. Truth be told, he'd hardly noticed what was on the shelves, he'd been so intent on Rose. "What would you recommend?"

She tapped her finger against her lips as she walked up and down the aisle. Then, grinning mischievously, she grabbed a Headless Hat displayed on a bust near the end cap and hurried back to Scorpius. "Bend your knees," she said, and as he did as instructed she reached up to place the hat on his head. Then, taking his arm, she steered him to the mirror at the back of the shop. "What d'you think?"

He_thought_ he was immensely grateful the hat made his head invisible, because he was blushing quite furiously from when she'd brushed up against him and even now was still standing quite close, closer even than yesterday when she'd tried to see the book he was holding. What he _said_ was, "How much is it?"

Without thinking, Rose replied, "Nothing. It's a gift."

Scorpius pulled the hat away, relieved to see his color had returned to something near normal. "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't," she said. "I want to. Consider it a combination late birthday present and 'congratulations on getting your Apparating license' gift."

"Thank you, Rose," he said with complete sincerity. If he'd had just an ounce more courage he'd have taken her hand and kissed it, but instead he concentrated his gaze on the hat. "You're very kind. I really appreciate the gesture."

"I'm just glad you were able to stop by."

"Me too," he exhaled. Then he continued, "Maybe we--" just as she said, "I hope you--" He politely deferred to her with a gesture. "You were about to say?"

Her arms folded across her midsection, Rose rubbed the toe of her shoe over a stain on the floor. "I was just going to say that I hope I'll see you again--y'know, before we head back to school."

Scorpius found the floor equally fascinating. "I do, too." He looked over his shoulder to see his mother standing at the counter with Rose's father, then checked his watch. "We should probably be going," he said, taking a few steps towards the front of the shop. "Father will be home soon."

"Oh, okay," she said, hoping her disappointment wasn't too obvious as she followed him.

"Are you ready to go, Scorpius?" Mrs. Malfoy asked when they reached her. "What did you decide to buy?"

Rose made a point not to look at Dad while Scorpius showed his mum the Headless Hat by putting it on. As she let out a delighted laugh he explained, "Rose gave it to me as a gift."

"_Grazie molto_, Rose," Mrs. Malfoy said, beaming. She kissed Rose's cheeks three times. "You are so kind." She waved at Rose's dad, who raised his hand in reply. "It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can meet again soon. _Ciao_!"

"_Ciao_," Rose said softly as the door closed behind them, Uncle Charlie's sigh echoing her own.


	4. Chapter 4

"--and Will's mum, she has all these jars in her office, of all different sizes, and--oh, boy!--they all have _dead_ things floating around in them, like Grindylows and Doxies and Red Caps, and the Pogrebin, its eyes were still open and I _know_ it was watching me as I walked around looking at everything, I could _feel_ it, and Mrs. Scamander, she says she and Mr. Scamander and Will are going to New Zealand next week to look for Flibbertigibbets and Fumbling Foofnagels--no, that's not it--Humping Schlumphers--er--oh bollocks, I forgot what they were called--"

"Language, Hugo," Mum said sharply just as Dad suggested, "Blibbering Humdingers?"

"Yeah, that's it!" Hugo exclaimed, completely ignoring Mum. "Anyway, Mrs. Scamander said I could go with them, if it's okay with you." His wide-eyed, puppylike gaze switched back and forth between Mum and Dad. "Please?"

"I don't know," Mum said. "New Zealand is rather far, and I'm not confident Mrs. Scamander is up to--"

"Let the boy go, Hermione," Dad said. "He hasn't even been home from school for a week and he's climbing the walls with boredom. Imagine how much worse it'd be if he got left behind while his best mate went off on safari."

"But Lu--"

"It'll be fine. Rolf's a responsible bloke, he'll make sure the lads don't get into too much trouble."

Rose thought Hugo's expression became even more pitifully imploring as he turned back to Mum. "_Please_?"

Mum sighed, shaking her head. "When do you leave?"

Hugo exploded out of his chair to embrace his mother. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," he cried over and over, hugging her so tightly her face turned red. "I'll owl Will right now and get all the deets." Before anyone could stop him, he thundered upstairs to his bedroom, leaving his dirty dishes on the table.

Mum rolled her eyes. "Why do I get the feeling I've just been bamboozled?" She glanced around the table at the two remaining occupants. Dad had finished his supper and was now methodically twisting his napkin into various configurations. Rose, lacking much of an appetite tonight, had been pushing her asparagus back and forth across her plate, then arranging the spears into various shapes. Right now she found herself looking at the letter "M."

"You two have been rather quiet tonight," Mum said. "Did something happen at the shop?"

Rose hastily jumbled the asparagus spears together, hiding any evidence of where her thoughts had been for the past few hours. For his part, Dad cleared his throat and said, "I met Grazia Malfoy today."

"Really?" Mum said in a tone of voice Rose recognized all too well. "She came to the shop?"

"Mm-hm," Dad said.

Rose looked up from her plate to see Mum watching her. "Was she alone?"

"No. She was... she had that boy with her."

"'That boy'?" Mum asked, a phrase that had also caught Rose's attention. "You mean Scorpius?" Dad nodded. "But not Draco?"

"No, thank Merlin."

Mum leaned forward, resting her chin in her upturned palm, and addressed Rose. "Aren't you glad I took you with me when I went to their house yesterday?"

"I s'pose," Rose said, shrugging her shoulders. She stubbornly avoided Mum's gaze, unable and unwilling to endure her "see-I-told-you-so" look.

"So what did you make of her?" Mum asked Dad.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Dunno, to be honest. She's a piece of work, that's for certain. I'm sure she's a handful. She's probably got Draco completely cowed."

"Oh, absolutely. He was such a mummy's boy, though, that I can't imagine him being truly comfortable with taking the dominant role in any relationship. I think he likes being under a woman's thumb."

Rose smothered a giggle at the look on her father's face. "Yeah, sure," he said, clearly unwilling to encourage her further down that line of thought. "Anyway, she seemed pleasant enough. Very outgoing. She told me her family has been manufacturing glassware for centuries."

"Did she offer any information about how she and Draco met?"

"No," he said, "and I didn't ask. She did say that he started his business exporting what her family made throughout Europe, eventually taking on other manufacturers. Apparently now he handles exports all over the world."

"That explains how they can live in such style. His parents lost everything after the war."

Dad chuckled. "Ironic, isn't it? Draco Malfoy, a self-made man."

"You don't like him very much, do you Dad?" Rose said. "Scorpius' dad, I mean."

He reached up a hand to scratch his cheek. "No, I don't, sweetheart. Your Mum and I--and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny--were at school the same time as he was. He... wasn't a nice person."

"We learned about what happened during the war in History of Magic a couple of years ago," Rose said. "I know Mr. Malfoy's dad was Lord Voldemort's biggest supporter, and that they captured you and Mum and Uncle Harry, and that Mr. Malfoy tried to kill the Hogwarts headmaster because Lord Voldemort told him to, and--" She paused when she saw her parents exchange a look. "Anyway, I'm sure you both did things you weren't proud of back then, too."

"Er--" Dad said.

"Well, you see--" Mum started.

"My point is, you're not the same people now that you were back then, are you? I mean, that was what, twenty-five years ago? It's ancient history."

"Hey now, be careful who you call ancient." She could tell from the tone of Dad's voice he was only teasing.

"She has a point, though, Ron," Mum said. "It's not fair to judge who Draco Malfoy is today based on things he did when he was sixteen. If you can grow up, so can he."

He grimaced at the jab. "Oh, I agree. Still, though, he is a Malfoy, and I wouldn't trust one of that lot as far as I can throw them. He's never let go of that "pureblood is best" mentality he grew up with."

"Scorpius doesn't think that way at all," Rose said.

"Think what way?" Mum wanted to know.

"That purebloods are superior to everyone else."

"How do you know? Have you heard him actually say so, in those terms?" Dad asked.

"No. But I can tell about him. I just--" She picked up her fork and made the tines 'walk' across her plate. "I don't know what I'm trying to say, except that I can tell from the way he treats people that he doesn't care about stuff like who's a pureblood and who's a Muggleborn."

"Well, maybe," Dad said, doubt evident in his voice. "I haven't spoken to him enough to be convinced. With grandparents like he's got, he had to have been indoctrinated to some degree. He'll show his true colors sooner or later."

There was the sound of a door being slammed upstairs, then Hugo's heavy footsteps could be heard running downstairs. "I was just finishing up my note to Will when an owl came for Rosie," he said breathlessly, thrusting a heavy grey envelope at her. "Bet it's from your _boy_friend."

"Shut it," she snapped, as she studied the embossed initial on the envelope flap. She was fairly certain she recognized the handwriting on the front; the sender's address, from a posh area of London, as good as confirmed it. "May I be excused please?" she asked. Mum waved her away and Rose, after she'd slipped the envelope inside her pocket, gathered up her dishes and took them into the kitchen.

After filling up the sink with hot soapy water and putting her dishes in to soak, Rose pulled herself up on the counter and took the envelope out of her pocket. Leaning back against the cabinets, she turned it over in her hands, examining it from all angles. Presuming the handwriting was indeed Scorpius'--it was clearly a masculine hand, and she didn't care to entertain the idea that the owl came from his father--why would he be writing her? What did he have to say that was so important it couldn't wait until their next accidental encounter? Ignoring the fluttery feeling in her stomach, she picked up her wand to break the seal on the envelope, then drew the letter out.

_Dear Rose_, it began, and the fluttering increased in intensity at the sight of the word "dear" in such close proximity to her name.

_Mother asked me to convey to you her appreciation and regard for your father's shop. She is very impressed with his success and hopes business continues to go well for your family. For my part, I would like to thank you for your generous gift of the Headless Hat. I have demonstrated it to several of our servants this evening to great effect. I hope someday I am in a position to return your kindness._

_I am writing to you most of all to extend an invitation for you to dine with me and my mother at our home two days from now, on Friday the 6th at 7 p.m. My father will be out of the country on business, so it will just be the three of us_ (Rose wondered if he'd been tempted to add, "and you needn't worry about him harassing you.")_. Please respond by owl as soon as possible so my mother can make the necessary arrangements for your travel here. _

_Yours,_

_Scorpius Malfoy_

A little further down the page, in handwriting that was less painstakingly neat, as though he'd scribbled it down in a burst of bravado, Scorpius had added--

_P.S. I really hope you can come, Rose. S.C.M._

"Who's the letter from, Rose?" Mum asked, entering the kitchen behind Hugo, whose arms were loaded down with dirty dishes.

"Yeah, who's it from?" Hugo said as he tipped the dishes into the sink. "Is it your _boy_friend?"

"Shut up, Hugo!" Rose snapped, swatting at his head with the envelope. "I've been invited to dinner at the Malfoys," she said to Mum.

"Malfoy?" Hugo exclaimed. "Not that weird Ravenclaw Prefect? _He_'s your boyfriend?"

"He's not weird!" Rose said, pushing herself off the countertop. "Nor is he my boyfriend."

He scurried around the kitchen table to put distance between them. "You want him to be though, don't you? I've seen the way you're always hanging around him in the library, making moony eyes." He batted his eyelashes and clasped his hands together over his heart. "Oh, Scorpy-poo, you're so clever, will you help me with my homework?" he said in a mocking, singsong voice. "Congratulations on winning the dueling tournament, Score. Could you show me how you did that spell?"

Hugo paused in his jeering to grimace. "You haven't been snogging him, have you? Eurgh!" He stuck his finger in his mouth and made a retching sound. "You'd be better off snogging the Giant Squid."

"Shut UP!" Rose cried, her face burning, as she grabbed her wand and chased him around the table.

"What the bloody hell is going on in here?" Dad yelled.

"Scorpius Malfoy is a total ponce, and probably a poofter too," Hugo shot back at Rose, dodging as a jinx she'd hurled at him whizzed past his head. "Even his own Housemates dislike him. He just hides in the library and never talks to anyone unless he's taking away points. The only person who doesn't think he's weird is _you_." Another jinx hit him dead-on and he fell to the floor, twitching and foaming at the mouth.

"That's _enough_," Mum said, snatching Rose's wand out of her hand while Dad reversed the spell on Hugo and helped him to his feet. "Both of you are acting like three-year-olds tonight. Ron, will you take Hugo outside, please, and talk to him about how to treat his sister?"

"Hey, no fair! I wasn't doing anything!" he protested as Dad dragged him away by his collar. "I was just taking the piss!"

"Make him be quiet, Mum," Rose cried, wiping hot tears from her eyes and jerking her finger at Hugo's retreating back. "Make him take back what he said."

Mum took hold of Rose's arms. "Why does it matter to you what Hugo thinks of Scorpius?"

"B-Because he's _not_ weird, or a ponce, or a poofter. Just because he keeps to himself doesn't make him a bad person."

"I still don't see why it should matter so much to you."

"It just does, okay?" she said, stamping her foot for emphasis. "He's my friend, and I don't like it when mouthy little gits say bad things about my friends."

"Uh-huh." Mum reached up to wipe away some of Rose's tears. "You're rather worked up over a friend, don't you think? Is there any possibility your brother understands the situation better than you do?"

"HA! That dumb-arse pillock? He can't even tell the difference between _Rictusempra_ and _Riddikulus_."

"Rose Muriel Weasley, you are not too old for a Mouth-Washing Hex." Rose jerked herself free and turned her back on her mum to sulk. "Now what is this about an invitation from Scorpius?" Mum asked in a gentler voice.

Rose picked up the now-crumpled letter from the counter and shoved it at her mother. "He's asked me to have dinner with him and his mum this Friday."

"Just the two of them? Not his father too?"

She shook her head. "Scorpius said he'll be out of the country on business." She turned back around to face her mum. "Can I go?"

Mum read the letter carefully, smiling when she got to the end. "Scorpius seems like a very nice young man. He's been brought up very well."

"He _is_, Mum. Hugo's got it all wrong about him--he's not like that at all."

Mum sat down in a nearby chair and looked up at Rose. "Then what is he like?"

"He..." Rose gnawed on her thumbnail as she tried to gather her thoughts. "He's so clever, Mum, it's incredible. And it's not like he has to work at it, like I do--it just comes naturally to him, like breathing."

"You don't have to work at being clever, Rose."

"Yeah, Mum, I do, if I want to seem anywhere close as clever as he is."

Mum gave a knowing smile. "Do you see yourself as competing with him?"

"I do, but not in a bad way, y'know?"

"I think I do. It's why you weren't upset when you didn't get the Dumbledore Bursary."

"Kind of. I really wasn't all that interested in getting it in the first place. I felt bad for Dad, because I know he was really keen on me winning."

"He just wants you to succeed."

"I know."

"So tell me more about Scorpius. What did Hugo mean about a dueling tournament?"

Rose felt her heart beat a little faster. "See, Scorpius is president of the dueling club at Hogwarts. He's just _amazing_ with a wand. This year they won an international tournament after he defeated the Beauxbatons champion in fifteen seconds." Mum's eyebrows went up. "I've told him he should talk to Uncle Harry about becoming an Auror when he's finished at Hogwarts. I even said I'd talk to Uncle Harry for him if he didn't want to, because I think he'd make a brilliant Auror."

Mum tilted her head to one side. "Why wouldn't he want to talk to Harry?"

"Well, that's the thing." She took a chair and turned it around so she could sit in it and face her mother. "Hugo was right about something else: Scorpius does keep to himself a lot. He always has. But, he has good reason to." She paused to take a breath and summon up her courage. "Our first year at Hogwarts, he got picked on. A lot. I heard he got sent to the infirmary at least once a week, covered in hex burns and sometimes worse. And it wasn't just students from one particular House; even Ravenclaws joined in a couple of times."

"That's terrible," Mum said, and Rose felt confident that she really meant it. "Was it for any particular reason?"

Rose's shoulders slumped. "I gathered from what I heard that it was mostly because he's a Malfoy."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I didn't really understand what that meant until we learned about the war."

"Is that when you started to look at him differently? After you heard about his family's involvement in the war?"

She wrinkled her nose. "No, not really. I mean, I never looked at him the same way everyone else did to begin with. Fifth year just happened to be when I started to get to know him better, since we were both Prefects. Before then I thought he was a bit of a toffee-nosed swot, and then when I got to know him a little better I realized that he's just really, really shy." She looked down at her hands. "Reckon it isn't easy to make friends when everyone hates you for something you have no control over."

"I suppose not." She leaned forward and rested her hand on Rose's. "I get the feeling there's something more about the way Scorpius was picked on that you haven't told me."

Still staring at her hands, Rose sighed. "There is. Y'see, things had been pretty quiet for a couple of months until just before Easter, when a group of Gryffindors ganged up on him. They followed him coming out of the library late one night and cornered him. He could have been very seriously hurt, maybe even permanently."

"I gather he wasn't."

A smile spread slowly across Rose's face. "They got a few jinxes in, but he managed to out-maneuver all of them, and he did it without leaving a single mark. Then, when he went to the infirmary for treatment, he refused to identify who'd attacked him. He wouldn't even say what House they were in."

"If that's the case, how do you know so much about what happened?" Mum asked, her eyes narrowed.

Rose looked directly at her. "Because James was the ringleader."

She sat back, her mouth pursed in an unhappy frown. "That explains why he might be reluctant to speak to Harry about becoming an Auror."

"Right," Rose said, nodding. "James had been involved in all the attacks by Gryffindors on Scorpius, and some of the others as well. He even tried to get Al in on it, but Al didn't want to have anything to do with it."

"What happened after Scorpius managed to turn the tables?"

"They left him alone after that. For one thing, I think they were shocked that a first-year could beat a half-dozen older students by himself, but also some of them were impressed by the way he refused to give them up, despite everything."

"James too?"

"James still has a go at Scorpius every chance he gets, but he makes sure to stop right before wands come out, or does it when there's a professor nearby." She drew a breath. "At least he'll be able to enjoy his seventh year in peace, now that James is done with school."

Mum smiled tensely. "I suppose so." She handed Scorpius' letter back. "So you really want to go to dinner at the Malfoys'? Understand, you'd be on your own."

Rose sat up. "Oh, yes, Mum, I--"

"Absolutely not." Rose looked over her shoulder to see her dad standing there, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly he could yank it out with one sharp tug, his face menacingly dark. "You'll go to that house over my dead body."

"Dad!"

"Why can't she go, Ron? Draco's not going to be there, if--"

"That's not it. She's not to go there alone."

"But the invitation is just for her. It would be presumptuous to ask if one of us could accompany her. And besides, she's almost seventeen."

"I don't care how old she is, she's still not going."

Rose felt tears well up in her eyes. "Why are you being so unfair, Dad?" she asked, her voice trembling.

His expression seemed to soften a little when he looked at her. "I'm just trying to look out for what's best for you, Rosie," he said. "I couldn't bear it if you got hurt."

"Honestly, Ron, I don't understand what's got into you. We've both met Scorpius and his mother, why isn't that enough to convince you it's safe to let Rose have dinner with them?"

"It just isn't, Hermione, and that's all I have to say about it right now. As far as I'm concerned, the matter is closed. She's not to go there, and that's my final word."

Mum pulled her close as Rose burst into tears again. "Do you object to Scorpius coming here?"

"What?" he asked.

"What?" Rose asked with a sniffle, pulling back.

"What if Rose were to invite Scorpius here? Would that be acceptable?"

His brow furrowed. "Well... I dunno... I reckon... it can't be--"

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Mum said with determination. She cupped Rose's damp cheeks in her hands and studied her, her warm brown eyes filled with love. "Send Scorpius an owl with your regrets that you are unable to accept his invitation, but ask if he'd like to come here this weekend. Let's say Sunday afternoon, so Dad and I will both be here to keep an eye on things." She looked over Rose's head at Dad. "I trust that suits?"

"What do I say, though?" Rose asked. "I mean, what reason do I give for inviting him here?"

Mum smiled. "You're a very bright girl, Rose. I know you'll come up with a good reason. Now go on, before it gets too late in the evening and all the owls have gone hunting."

Rose wiped the side of her hand beneath her nose. "Thanks, Mum," she said, giving her a watery smile. "You're the best." She got up and, averting her gaze from her dad, ran upstairs, already composing a draft of her letter to Scorpius in her head.


	5. Chapter 5

Scorpius set down his quill, mindful it didn't drip ink on the margins of his essay, and rubbed his fingers along either side of his nose. One essay down, four more to go, and he'd been home from Hogwarts for half a week; in previous summers, he'd have done more than twice the amount of homework in the same length of time. True, he was now doing N.E.W.T.-level work that was naturally more rigorous and demanding, but that wasn't the reason for the delay.

He got up from his desk and went to the window, which he'd left open to admit the warm evening air and in anticipation of Rose's response to his invitation. He knew he'd hear back from her tonight; the question was when, and what her answer would be.

As the shadows had lengthened into twilight and then dusk and the sky had begun to fill with bats and other night flyers, Scorpius had begun to wonder if maybe he'd made a mistake, if he'd presumed too much. Had he let himself get so carried away by the realization he fancied Rose that he'd misread the signals he thought she was giving him? What if he was all wrong about this? What if she hadn't deliberately lingered by his side, standing closer to him than might be proper for a casual friend, while he tried on the Headless Hat? What if he'd made more out of her gift of the Hat than she'd intended to imply? What if she was only being friendly when she said she hoped to see him again before the end of summer?

Questions such as these had haunted him for the past few hours as he tried to pass the time by working on his Transfiguration essay. The essay would have to be re-written; while superficially it might pass muster, his thesis lacked conviction, his argument was full of holes big enough to accommodate the Knight Bus, and his citations were shoddy. That would have to wait until tomorrow, though, because Scorpius knew there was no hope of accomplishing anything else tonight until he'd heard back from Rose.

He hoped beyond all reasoning that she would say yes. Mother had offered, without his asking, to supervise the menu, which meant the courses would show off the diversity of Venetian cuisine, each set off with a good Italian wine. For dessert, espresso, of course, and a delicate chocolate gelato Mother would make with her own hand, from a recipe handed down from mother to daughter for generations. Scorpius thought he would take Rose through the sitting room and on to the balcony, where they could sit on a bench beneath the wisteria and look up at the stars and eat their gelato and talk--about what, he couldn't guess, but he knew Rose would see to it that they never lacked for conversation.

The piano in the sitting room would be charmed to play for them, and somehow Scorpius would find the courage he needed to ask Rose if she would like to dance. He smiled to himself as he imagined her nose wrinkling as she pondered his suggestion, but she would say yes in the end. They'd set their gelato cups down and he'd get to his feet first, then turn and offer his hand to her. Her hand would be cool from holding the gelato cup, but beneath the chill he'd detect a slight dampness, and find relief in the knowledge that she was just as nervous as he was.

He'd guide her to the far end of the balcony, away from the light spilling out from the sitting room, where night would cloak them in privacy, and take her into his arms. She would be stiff at first, and would probably apologize in advance for stepping on his feet, but he would reassure her that he knew what he was doing. Eventually she would begin to relax, loosening her grip on his hand and allowing his arm to slide a little further around her waist, drawing her closer. Perhaps she might even lay her head on his shoulder, and her beautiful, untameable hair would tickle his face and neck.

They would continue to dance, but their movements would slow to the point where they were merely moving from side to side. Finally he would stop and, once again summoning courage he was not entirely convinced he possessed, he would look down at her and whisper her name. She'd look up at him and, seeing the look on his face, would lift her head.

She was tall enough that he wouldn't have to bend far to kiss her. Her lips, warm and full, would taste slightly of chocolate gelato, and she would be hesitant and unsure at first, perhaps even a bit surprised. Their kissing would start out tentatively--he didn't know what prior experience Rose had, but his was limited to a girl he met while on holiday at his grandparents' in France the previous summer, who had been less interested in kissing than more carnal activities, and who in less than an hour had ushered him through a multitude of first experiences--but with the reassurance of familiarity would come curiosity, and with curiosity, desire for more. And all of it would be brilliant, of that Scorpius was absolutely certain. If only Rose would say yes to his invitation.

The hoot of an owl broke through the fantasy Scorpius had constructed for himself. Hoping this was the long-awaited response, he leaned out the window and watched the bird approach. When it didn't angle downward towards one of the lower-level windows, but instead remained on a straight and sure path towards him, he stepped back to allow it room for entrance. The owl soared in through the window and claimed a perch on the back of Scorpius' chair, then stuck out its leg.

He immediately recognized Rose's large, loopy handwriting on the envelope. His hands shaking, he freed the letter, then gave the owl a treat from the jar he kept handy. "There's fresh water in the fountain in the garden, if you're thirsty," he said, unable to take his eyes off his name, preserved there in Rose's distinct hand. As silent as a whisper, the owl took off through the window and soared into the darkness.

His lips pressed together, Scorpius took his wand and neatly sliced open the envelope, then drew out the letter it contained. Then, laying his wand and the envelope on his desk, he held the folded sheet to his chest, closed his eyes, and murmured, "_Please_ let it be a yes." He then opened his eyes and unfolded the letter to read it.

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I'm sorry to have to say this, but I won't be able to come to your house for dinner Friday night. It's not because I don't want to, and even my mum seemed okay with the idea. My dad, though, is being an overprotective prat, and put his foot down. I'm really, really sorry, Scorpius, and I hope you're not too disappointed._

_Mum thought instead (and Dad agreed--or at least he didn't disagree) that maybe you could come over here. Would Sunday afternoon work for you? I'm sure you've already done all of our summer essay assignments so I won't suggest we work on those together, but you did offer to help me with Disapparating earlier today, if you remember. We've got a decent-sized garden behind our house that would be a good place to practice in. And when we get bored of that (or you've had enough of watching me fall on my arse) you could try your hand at explaining that Muggle science you were studying the other day. I don't know if you know this, but Mum's Muggle-born, and she might be able to lend us a hand. Afterwards, you can join us for supper (my brother won't be there, thank Merlin, since he's leaving for New Zealand that morning, so it'll just be the four of us). It won't be nearly as fancy as I'm sure dinner at your house is, but the food is good, and there'll be no lack of entertainment even without Hugo._

_I really am sorry I can't have dinner with you and your mum, Scorpius. I hope your parents are a little more open-minded than my dad._

_Your friend,_

_Rose_

_PS: What's the "C" stand for?_

_PPS: Mum just came in and said I should tell you that your mum is welcome to come on Sunday as well. _

_PPS: Again, I'm really sorry I had to say no. Maybe if things go well on Sunday Dad will reconsider (that is, if you and your mum don't decide we're all barking mad and don't want to have anything to do with any of us ever again. I __really__ hope that doesn't happen!)_

Scorpius carefully set the letter down on his desk, then took a few long strides backwards to sit on the end of his bed. He wasn't quite certain how to react. On the one hand, it wasn't the reply he'd been hoping for. On the other, Rose's counter-invitation indicated she was interested in seeing him again. On the other other hand, the idea had been her mother's, not hers. On the other other _other_ hand, however, she seemed genuinely distressed at the thought of disappointing him.

He lay back with a groan and scrubbed his hands over his face. So much for his fantasy scenario. Given what Rose had said about her father, and what Scorpius had observed for himself, there wouldn't be much opportunity for privacy at her place. If he was going to try to kiss Rose, he'd probably be doing it before an audience; more importantly, he'd probably find himself facing down Rose's irate father seconds later. Scorpius was confident he could defend himself, and probably even disarm Mr. Weasley, if it came to that, but it wasn't a prospect he relished. He'd probably be permanently banned from Rose's presence.

Then again, to have just one chance to kiss Rose... it might be worth the risk.

Scorpius took the letter from his desk and opened the door to his bedroom and listened carefully. He couldn't hear voices filtering up from below, but that might not mean anything. His parents rarely argued in his presence, and Father _never_ raised his voice against Mother. To say the news that Rose Weasley-Granger had been invited to dinner at a time when Father would be away had not gone over well, however, would be a gross understatement. Father had been so incensed he'd threatened to send Scorpius to spend the remainder of the summer with his Malfoy grandparents, and, if that didn't do the trick, to transfer him to Beauxbatons for his final year of school. "This foolishness has gone on long enough," he'd said in a venomously even tone. "I'm through indulging both of you."

His frustration threatening to boil over, Scorpius had got to his feet then, intending to confront Father in defense of both Rose and himself, but Mother had intervened, positioning herself between Scorpius and his father. "Let me handle this," she'd said to Scorpius in Italian. "Your thoughts are too occupied with Rose right now, and you will end up saying something you regret."

For perhaps the first time in his life, Scorpius had felt resentful towards his mother. "I'm seventeen, Mother," he'd replied indignantly. "I'm a _man_ now. I should be allowed to speak up for myself."

"A_man_ knows when to back down and let others speak on his behalf when he cannot be objective. You wouldn't enter a dueling ring in this state of mind, would you?" She'd gestured towards his left hand, which was clenching his wand so tightly his knuckles stood out. "You should have more sense than to draw your wand on your own father, Scorpius. Now go, and let me try to get him to see reason. Later, when you are both calm, you can explain to him in your own words what you find so endearing about Rose."

He'd submitted, albeit reluctantly, and went upstairs, closing the doors to the sitting room behind him. Whatever Mother had said to Father he didn't know; although neither of them had bothered with a Silencing Spell, this house was too solidly-built to allow more than murmurs to pass through walls. For now, though, all was quiet, so Scorpius headed downstairs.

There was a distinct chill in the air when he entered the sitting room, but both of his parents were in there--Father reading a book, Mother at her easel--which Scorpius took as a good sign that they had at least reached a truce. What that meant for him, Scorpius knew he'd soon find out.

They both looked up when he cleared his throat. "I've heard back from Rose," he said, "and she says she can't come."

The look of triumph in Father's eyes was galling, but Mother's exclamation of regret soothed Scorpius' wounded ego. "Did she already have plans?" she asked. "Perhaps we could try for another--"

"It's all right," Scorpius said. He gave his father a wary look. "She's invited us to her house, instead."

Father's mouth dropped open slightly. "Us?"

Scorpius tried not to falter. "Just Mother and me." Father's mouth clamped shut and he returned to his book. Emboldened by Father's non-reaction, Scorpius added, "Sunday afternoon, if that's all right, Mother. I'd like to send Rose a reply tonight, if I may."

She wiped off her paintbrush and set it in a jar before coming over to take the letter Scorpius held out to her. She read over it quickly, touching her fingers to her lips to hide a smile when she got to the end, then turned to Father. "Do you have any objections, Draco?"

"You know my feelings on the matter," he said irritably.

She looked cross for a moment, but returned the letter to Scorpius with a smile. "Tell Rose we'll both be there at 2:30 on Sunday. Let her know I look forward to spending the afternoon with her mother." Scorpius beamed. "Oh, and Scorpius?" she said as he headed out of the sitting room.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Don't stay up 'til all hours composing your reply. The owls won't appreciate being sent out on a delivery at dawn."

Draco waited until the doors had completely shut before he closed his book with a snap. "Their _house_? In the name of all that is sacred, you're letting him go to their _house_?"

"I'll be there too, Draco."

"As if that's supposed to make me feel any better." He got to his feet, tossing the book in the seat he'd just vacated, and went to stand by the fireplace, leaning his elbow on the mantel and propping his head up with his hand. "What happens after Sunday, Grazia? Have you thought about that? What happens if everything goes so splendidly they decide they want to do it again?" He looked at her in anguish. "Have you really thought about the long-term consequences of what's at stake here?"

"You're talking about two children in love. What's so awful about that?"

"Children, yes. That's what I'm on about. He's just a child. A naïve child who has no idea what he's getting himself into."

"He's a man, Draco. Why can't you let him be one?" She gradually approached. "Have you seen the way his face lights up when he looks at her? I remember when you used to look at me like that. Why do you want to deprive him of that?"

"You don't understand. It's more complicated than--" He made a vague gesture with his hand. "--that."

"Than what, lust? I don't think that's what's keeping you awake at night." She reached out and took his left hand, raising it so that his forearm was extended between them. Then, working quickly, she removed his cufflink and rolled up the shirtsleeve to his elbow. The image of a skull, a snake slithering out of its mouth, that had been branded there many years before, was almost translucent, but still visible even against Draco's pale skin. Grazia's finger delicately traced the outline of the Dark Mark. "It's about this, isn't it?" she asked, gazing up at him.

Draco closed his eyes, fighting back the urge to flinch, the compulsion to jerk his hand free of her grasp, the desire to roll down his sleeve and once again hide the symbol of his family's ignominy from her scrutiny. The Mark was not unknown to her, but she'd never before been so brazen about acknowledging it.

"Draco, why are you trembling?" She released his hand to wrap her arms around him and lay her head on his chest. "It's about them, isn't it? Rose's family. You have a personal history with them." Draco swallowed, anticipating the next step in her thought process. "No, not her whole family. Her mother. Am I right? Because she's Muggle-born?"

Draco extracted himself from Grazia's arms and stepped back, putting distance between them as he rolled down his shirtsleeve. "I always said you were much too clever for your own good, Grazia." He Summoned his traveling robe and threw it over his shoulders. Before she could ask he said, "I'm just going for a fly. Don't wait up for me." Then, before she could stop him, he swept out of the room.

* * *

Some time later, Draco returned to a quiet, darkened home, only the light in the entrance foyer to illuminate his return. It left him with mixed feelings; he was glad not to have to deal with Grazia when his emotions were still so raw, but he felt remorseful for the way he'd behaved so beastly towards her. His personal demons were not her fault.

He hung up his traveling robe and was about to head upstairs for bed when he heard footsteps coming from upstairs. Girding himself for the inevitable confrontation, Draco waited at the foot of the stairs, his hand resting atop the newel post.

To his surprise, it was not Grazia who came down, but his son. Draco glanced at the nearby clock. "It's nearly one, Scorpius. What are you still doing up at this hour?"

"I've been waiting for you."

"I see." He exhaled deeply. One confrontation was just as inevitable as the other, he supposed. "C'mon, then," he said, stepping back to allow Scorpius room to pass.

They went into his study, where Draco ignited the lamps by the hearth as he strode across the room to the liquor cabinet. "Sit down," he instructed, confident Scorpius would obey. Then, after pouring a measure of Ogden's Old Firewhisky into two tumblers, he went to join Scorpius, handing him one of the tumblers. "Seeing as you're a man now, it seems only fitting I should serve you a man's drink," he offered by way of explanation in response to Scorpius' puzzled look.

"Thank you," Scorpius said, still eyeing him warily. He took a tentative swallow, trying not to wince as the Firewhisky burned a hole straight to his stomach, igniting wildfires all the way down.

Draco studied his son, admiring his self-control. The first time _his_ father had given him Firewhisky, Draco'd had tears streaming out of his eyes and was left gasping for breath. It was hardly the first, or the last, time he'd disappointed his father. In homage to that inauspicious occasion, he tipped his tumbler back and drained its contents. "So," he said, once he'd put out the flames on his tongue, "tell me about Rose."

"W-What?" Scorpius asked, trying not to cough.

"I want to hear why you're so arse over teakettle for this girl. That is why you waited up for me, isn't it? I may not be as fluent in Italian as you and your mother, but I understand well enough." He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Why this girl? You could have any witch you wanted."

Scorpius set down his tumbler. "The hell I could."

"Sorry?"

"Father, there's no use in pretending. I'm not as naïve as you'd like to think I am. Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy can live out the rest of their lives in France, you can present yourself as an honest, successful businessman, I can be the top student at Hogwarts, but it's not enough. For some people it will never be enough."

Draco recognized the quaver of repressed anger in his son's voice all too well, and it nearly did him in. "Go on."

"Do you remember how difficult my first year at Hogwarts was?" He waited for his father to acknowledge his question before continuing. "That was just the beginning. At first, they all hated me because of you--because of you and Grandfather and Grandmother, and stories they'd all grown up hearing about the war."

"You managed to fight back, though. You learned to defend yourself."

"Against the attacks, yes, but there was nothing I could do about the rumors and gossip." He took a breath before continuing. "Then, during my fourth year, things changed."

Draco's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. "Changed? How?"

"That spring, people--girls in particular--got interested in me. Again, because of you and Grandfather and Grandmother."

"I don't understand."

Scorpius licked his lips. He'd never shared any of this with anyone, not even his mother, and even the memory of it was excruciatingly uncomfortable. "Some people started to think of Dark magic as... well, as sexy--"

"_What_?"

"--and hoped that, as a Malfoy, I might _know_ things that I'd be willing to... share. For a price."

Draco was flabbergasted. "You're telling me that girls were propositioning you, in exchange for what? Private tutorials in the Dark Arts?"

"That's about the full measure of it, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Scorpius shrugged. Draco turned and stared into the empty fireplace, ashamed to look his son in the face. "I knew I should have pulled you out of there after your first year. What a bloody nightmare."

"I'm glad you didn't," Scorpius said, leaning forward.

"Indeed?"

"For one thing, I wouldn't have been appointed a Prefect. And if that hadn't happened, I might not have had a chance to get to know Rose." Draco turned back towards him and gestured for him to continue. "Fifth year was when we learned about the war in History of Magic. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs met together--"

"I gather she's a Hufflepuff?"

"Yes."

Draco snorted. "Figures."

"Anyway, Rose and I were in the same classroom, learning the same things, such as how you'd become a Death Eater--" He stopped abruptly at a look from his father. "The day we learned about Dumbledore's murder, Rose and I had been assigned to patrol the corridors that night to make sure no one was breaking curfew. She'd have been well within her rights to beg off, get someone else to do it for her, so she wouldn't have to be alone with me." He paused. "She didn't. She showed up, right on time--well," he added with a laugh, "ten minutes late, but that's on time for her."

Draco marveled at the way his son's face had softened as he recounted the memory, reminding him of how young Scorpius was. He couldn't understand why, but he could see that it had been a vitally important moment for Scorpius. "You really do care for her, don't you?"

"Father, she's the only person at Hogwarts who's judged me for who _I_ am, and not who I'm related to. Considering who _she's_ related to, I think that's a pretty big deal."

"Hm."

"I like her, Father. A lot. She's clever, and funny, and she's kind to everyone--"

"Especially you."

"Especially me. And," he continued, lowering his voice, "I think she's the most beautiful girl I've ever known."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I doubt she's the last girl you'll ever say that about."

"Don't mock me, Father. I care about Rose as a friend, and I'd like the opportunity to show her I care about her as something more."

"Look, Scorpius," Draco said after a moment's hesitation, "whether I think you're emotionally mature enough or not, you are legally capable of making your own decisions and acting on them. However," he continued, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward, "being an adult also means accepting the consequences of your actions. Think about what you said earlier, about the way students treated you. Think about who you are, about the family you were born into, and all that entails. Think about how your grandparents would react if they knew you fancied the daughter of a Mudblood." He raised his hand as Scorpius' chin jerked up in response to the epithet. "Think about it, son. If you care for Rose so much, why would you want to burden her with any of that?"


	6. Chapter 6

Rose was an utter wreck.

She'd arisen at an insanely early hour, earlier even than her mum, after having scarcely slept at all the night before. She managed to choke down a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast, but then the butterflies in her stomach went on a rampage and she almost didn't make it to the toilet in time. A long, hot shower preceded by a thorough tooth-brushing helped calm her nerves a little, but the humidity did nothing for her hair.

The remainder of her morning was spent dashing around like a spastic house-elf, trying to make the house look presentable. When did her family turn into such slobs? Once she'd bundled up the outdated editions of the _Daily Prophet_ strewn around Dad's reading chair and put them by the trash bin; re-shelved all the books left lying around; retrieved nearly a Galleon's worth of loose change, two unopened Chocolate Frogs and one half-empty box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and a broken quill she thought she recognized as one of her own from beneath the sofa cushions; and swept, dusted, and plumped all the throw pillows (except for the one with the stain in the shape of Australia, which she hid at the back of a closet), Rose turned her attention to herself. With a little over three hours remaining until Scorpius and his mum were expected to arrive, she had her work cut out for her.

After a second shower and another round of tooth-brushing (lunch hadn't stayed down any better than breakfast) Rose attacked her hair with every weapon in her arsenal and a couple she nicked from her mum's, to little effect. Three breakdowns later, the last of which resulted in her throwing her brush at the wall so hard the handle broke off, she flung herself face-down across her bed and cursed both her parents for inflicting their genes upon her.

Eventually the tears dried up and Rose calmed down enough to roll on to her back to contemplate the ceiling and give serious consideration to the option of shaving her head. As boredom set in and her fingers found their way to a scab left from when she'd cut herself shaving her legs this morning, Rose came to the conclusion that shaving her head might not be such a good idea, so she got up with a string of oaths that would scandalize even her dad and forced her unruly mane into a passable French braid.

Finding the right outfit to wear for Scorpius' visit was no less of an ordeal. When she was at Hogwarts, Rose didn't worry too much about her attire; most of the time she was in school robes, and on other occasions, such as for Hogsmeade weekends or Quidditch matches, she just wore whatever was comfortable and clean. The latter was her guideline for summer wear as well. Consequently, she'd never put much thought into choosing an outfit that looked good, much less one that enhanced what few physical assets she had. Rose looked down at her pitifully flat chest and sighed grumpily. She'd never given _them_ a second thought before, either.

Then again, had Scorpius? The possibility made her turn tomato red.

Rose put on her favorite blouse and went before the mirror, only to squawk in horror. Why hadn't anyone told her that shade of yellow clashed so horribly with her coloring? After all these years of wearing her House colors, how had she not noticed it herself? She yanked the blouse over her head and threw it into a corner, where it was quickly joined by every other warm-weather blouse in her wardrobe, none of which satisfied her exacting standards.

She then systematically went through the shirts in her dresser, eliminating all those that were too tight, too low-cut (Dad would never stand for that), too ugly, and, in one case, might have passed muster if not for the fact that it had "Weird Sisters Reunion Tour '20: Raisin' the Dead" emblazoned in glittery cursive script across the chest and an image of the band on the back. She briefly contemplated wearing green, until she remembered the study at Scorpius' house and feared he might take her color choice as a coded message--about what, she couldn't guess, but then who knew how boys' minds worked?

"Rose!" she heard Mum call as she was about to try on her last top.

She opened the door to her bedroom and stuck her head out. "What?"

"The Scamanders are here for Hugo."

Rose made a face. "So?"

"So why don't you come down and say good-bye to your brother? He'll be away the rest of the summer."

Her voice sounded closer. Rose stood on her tiptoes and peered down. Sure enough, Mum had come up the first few steps and was now looking up at her expectantly. Rose sighed. "Fine, I'll be right down. Let me put something on first."

Mum came all the way up to the landing. "What have you been doing in there all this time?"

Rose glanced over her shoulder at the piles of rejected tops that littered her room. "Nothing."

"Mm-hm." Her lips pursed, she drummed her fingers on the banister rail while Rose steeled herself for the inevitable. Instead, though, Mum's expression grew softer and she said, "Get dressed so you can say good-bye to Hugo, then I'll help you get ready. All right?"

Rose was so astonished she almost flung the door open, then remembered just in time that she was only wearing a bra and knickers. "Okay, yeah," she managed to say. "That'd be great." She started to close the door, then at the last moment opened it enough to stick her head out again and add, "Thanks, Mum."

* * *

Mum had just returned with a pair of small silver hoop earrings she'd offered to let Rose borrow for the afternoon when the front doorbell rang. "Merlin's pants, they're here!" Rose exclaimed.

"Don't let me catch you swearing like that in front of our guests," Mum said as she handed the earrings to Rose. "I expect you to behave like a proper young lady, not... not one of your uncles."

"Not even Uncle Percy?" Rose leaned forward to examine her reflection in the mirror. She was amazed at the - well, at the _magic_ Mum had done. If it weren't for the freckles and the slight overbite, Rose might wonder if she were looking at a different person. Her hair had been brushed out until every knot and snarl had been vanquished and then re-plaited; her eyebrows tweezed so that it no longer looked as if she had a woolly caterpillar parked across her forehead; her ragged, bitten nails filed and buffed and painted with a coat of clear polish; her eyes given just enough color to make her lashes look long and dark and her irises sparkle; and somehow Mum had managed to scrounge together an outfit that suited Rose's coloring and then, after she'd put it on, cast a few spells to give it a more figure-flattering cut. Rose glanced down at her chest and sighed again; someday, maybe.

Then again, that's what Dad always said about the Cannons having a winning season: someday, maybe.

Mum leaned against the wardrobe, her arms crossed over her chest, while Rose put the earrings on. "_Especially_ not Uncle Percy. Your father will think you've been Confunded, and he's in a state as it is." Rose turned to her, remembering that she'd been meaning to ask why Dad disliked Scorpius' father so much, but before she got a chance Mum said, "Time to head downstairs. You've kept Scorpius waiting long enough."

As if on cue, Dad's bellow of, "Rosie! Hermione!" came from below.

"Honestly," Mum sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "After all these years..."

"Right, Mum," Rose said as she slipped her shoes on. "You know he does it just to take the mickey, right?" She smothered a laugh at the look that appeared on Mum's face, as though the possibility had never occurred to her.

Rose took one last look in the mirror, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and giving her hair a cautionary pat to be sure it would stay in place for the next few hours. Then she took a deep breath, told the butterflies in her stomach to piss off, and went downstairs.

* * *

Scorpius stood up so quickly as Rose entered the sitting room he almost knocked over his chair, but he reached out and caught it just in time. He also caught the strange look Mr. Weasley gave him before he, too, got to his feet. He didn't know what to make of it, nor what to make of Mr. Weasley. He'd been pleasant enough since Scorpius and his mother arrived, but he kept casting baleful looks in Scorpius' direction, as though he was expecting Scorpius to do something unpleasant. Scorpius tried his best to put it out of his mind as he took a step toward Rose.

"Hi," she said, giving him a smile that made his stomach do a flip.

Scorpius tried to smile back, but he wasn't very accustomed to smiling deliberately, and feared it came out looking like a nauseated grimace. "Hi."

He was just about to thank Rose for inviting him when her mother came in and said, "Ron, haven't you offered our guests anything to drink? Honestly!" And then his mother was speaking, and she and Rose's mother were going on about something or other, but Scorpius wasn't paying attention anymore because his mouth had gone dry and his hands had gone damp as it'd hit him that he was here, in Rose's home, at her invitation, and everything he'd spent the past several weeks fantasizing about suddenly seemed so tangible, so _possible_, he thought he'd explode from the anticipation.

So he said the first thing that came into his head: "I like your outfit."

She blushed even as her smile widened. "Thanks. You look nice, too."

"That's the same shirt you wore last Hogsmeade weekend."

"It is?" She glanced down at it, then back up at him, her nose wrinkling. "You remember what I was wearing two months ago?"

What was he supposed to say to that? That he remembered everything from that afternoon in exquisite, glorious detail? That, if asked, he could faithfully reproduce their entire conversation from the moment she'd approached his table in the Three Broomsticks to ask why he was lurking in a dark corner all by himself on such a lovely spring day until they'd parted company, hours later, in the entrance hall at Hogwarts? She'd think he was barmy for sure, and her father'd probably have him thrown out on his ear.

"Er, well," he hedged, casting about for a suitable cover story, "I'm just so used to seeing you in school robes, I suppose anything different stands out."

She seemed doubtful at first, but after a moment's hesitation shrugged it off and came closer. "I see you brought books with you," she said, indicating the small stack he'd set on the table.

"Your letter said you were interested in learning about physics."

"Yeah, well, be careful where you leave them. My mum reads books the way most people inhale oxygen. You leave those lying around, she'll have gone through them all by the time you leave and will be able to quote whole passages at you." She bit down softly on her lower lip. "I reckon you've already done all of our summer homework?" Scorpius nodded. "Figures," she said with a light laugh. "I haven't even started."

"It didn't take me too long, although I had to re-write my Transfiguration essay."

"That's good. That it doesn't take long to do, that is. You know me, I'll probably put it off until the night before we go back to school."

"You really oughtn't. If you were to start earlier, then --"

"Yeah, I know, Mum's been telling me the same thing for years." She leaned forward and added in a stage whisper, "Hasn't done a bit of good. Besides," she continued, rocking back, "if I started doing homework when I was supposed to, then I wouldn't have a reason to come pester you in the library."

"You could come pester me anyway," Scorpius said, his cheeks warming. "I wouldn't mind; I like the company."

"You say that to all the mad girls who pester you, I bet."

"No, just you," he blurted without thinking. Rose's eyes grew huge. "I mean, erm..."

Before he could come up with something more appropriate to say, however, Rose had closed the distance between them and grabbed his wrist. "C'mon," she said, tugging him along. "There's too many people in here. Let's go out in the garden."

As he let Rose lead him out of the sitting room, Scorpius caught sight of a knowing look that passed between his mother and hers. He was far more interested, however, in the feeling of Rose's soft, warm fingers around his wrist. With a deft twist he managed to replace his wrist with his hand and curled his fingers around hers, a move that caused her to look over her shoulder and reward him with a dazzling smile.

To his disappointment, she released his hand as soon as they got to the bottom of the steps leading from the back door into the garden. "It's not much," she said, kicking off her shoes and striding barefoot across the grass, "but I reckon it's big enough."

"For what?" Scorpius asked, gazing around him. There was a shed, a workshop of some sort it appeared, at the bottom of the garden, and through the open door he caught a glimpse of movement: Rose's father, most likely, playing chaperon. A net supported between two poles, one of which Rose was now dragging to set next to the other, hung across the middle of the garden. A bricked-over patio with chairs, a table, and a grill rested against the side of the house, where a large orange cat lay sprawled, sunning itself. It blinked lazily at Scorpius, then raised a hind leg and proceeded to clean itself. An open-faced wooden box--possibly a shelter for an owl?--had been nailed to a nearby tree. Someone had attempted a couple of flower beds here and there, but for the most part the garden was grassed over. In all, it gave off a very different atmosphere from the scrupulously manicured, topiaried garden at the back of his house.

"For Apparating, of course," Rose said. "Maybe you will have better luck teaching me than anyone else has."

"Oh, I doubt that. I mean, I'm probably rubbish at teaching."

Her hands planted on her hips, she exclaimed, "You are not, Scorpius! How else d'you think I got an O.W.L. in Astronomy?"

"Don't discount yourself like that, Rose. You'd've got an O.W.L. even without my help."

"Oh fine, be that way," she said, rolling her eyes and grinning. "I wouldn't have got an 'O' without your help."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Scorpius stuck his hands in his pockets, drawing comfort and strength from the familiar presence of his wand, and took a few steps towards her. "Apparating's not like Astronomy, though. I don't know if there's anything I can tell you that you haven't already heard a hundred times over. It's just... it's something you have to _feel_."

"Instinctual, you mean?"

He thought about this, then nodded. "Kind of, I suppose."

"That's a rather un-Ravenclaw-like attitude to take." At his puzzled frown she added, "That is, it's more like your lot to work out a solution to a problem, rather than just--" She waved her hand through the air. "--give yourselves up to chance."

"I don't know about that. Instinct isn't only about chance. Sometimes it's quite deliberate."

She laughed. "Yeah, you'd know about deliberate, wouldn't you?"

Her comment stung, probably more than she'd intended. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said more sharply than he intended.

"You're the most deliberate person I've ever known, Scorpius. Except for maybe my mum, but she's deranged anyway. Everything you do is calculated down to the smallest detail."

"That's not true at all."

"I bet you even plan out what you're going to wear each day a week in advance."

He opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. "I do not." Truthfully, he planned his wardrobe four days in advance, to allow for unexpected changes in the weather, but he wasn't about to admit that she was even partly correct.

Rose drew closer, stopping when she was only about a foot or so away, and tilted her head to one side. With her bright eyes, she looked almost birdlike. "Really? When was the last time you threw caution to the winds and did something _truly_ rash and impulsive?"

His mind raced as he sought for a good example to give her, but she was so close to him now he could scarcely think straight. He could come up with something very rash and impulsive he'd like to do right now, something that involved losing himself in Rose's eyes and lips for the rest of the afternoon. Rather than give in to the impulse, however, he said, "I invited you to my home for dinner."

She sighed and clucked her tongue. "That was your mum's idea."

"It was not!" he exclaimed vehemently. At her raised eyebrow he insisted, his voice almost pleading in its softness, "It was _my_ idea to invite you."

For an agonizing moment he thought she was going to continue in this vein, but then her expression softened. "Was it really?" she asked, much to his surprise. He nodded. "Wow," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. Then, louder, she turned and pointed to the bottom of the garden. "Erm, okay then, Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, show me how to 'feel' Apparation."

Rose had the most amazing ability to keep Scorpius continually off-kilter, and so it took him a moment to regroup. "You want me to Apparate down there?" he asked after clearing his throat.

"Yeah, show me what you've got."

He glanced at her profile before saying, "Actually, it might be better if I start down there and Apparate to you. It, er, it helps to have something concrete to fix in my mind as my destination. You know, the three Ds?"

"So, what, am I to be a D?"

A smile ghosted across his face. "Something like that, yeah."

"It's always been my dream in life to be a D." She grinned. "Okay, then, since you're the expert, we'll do it your way. You go there and Apparate to me while I stay here, doing my best impression of a D, and maybe between the two of us I can work this out."

"Now you're the one who sounds like a Ravenclaw."


	7. Chapter 7

If Scorpius didn't hurry up and kiss her, Rose thought she was going to scream. She was so frustrated with him right now, she was tempted to hex him into tomorrow. She'd tried everything she could think of to both give him the opportunity and convey the message that she would_ really_ like for him to kiss her, but he'd left her wanting every time.

She could tell he wanted to. The first time he'd Apparated for her, he'd re-materialized so close to her she'd instinctively grabbed him to keep them both from falling over, and she'd heard the catch in his breath as his chest came into contact with hers. Bloody hell, they'd been so close she'd _felt_ it, and would not have been surprised if he'd been able to feel the hammering of her heart as she'd looked up into his incredibly dark, dark blue eyes. His gaze had drifted down to her mouth and she'd started to close her eyes, thinking, _this is it_, but just as the warm breeze of his breath caressed her face he broke free and stepped back, sweeping aside the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.

"Sorry about that," he'd said, his voice sounding odd.

"About what?" Rose managed to get out despite her disappointment.

"About nearly Apparating on top of you." A slight flush rose up the sides of his neck.

"You're the one who said it would work better if you used me as your destination."

"I guess my subconscious must've taken that a bit too literally."

She wanted to say, "And what's wrong with that?" Instead she said, "I guess next time, don't concentrate on me so hard."

There wasn't going to be a next time, however, because he'd decided to have her demonstrate her Apparating technique to him, thinking that maybe he could figure out what she was doing wrong and help her correct it. She could have told him that there was no chance she'd manage a successful Apparition with him standing so close, occasionally touching her as he adjusted her stance. Not just light, casual touches, either; no, he had to come up close behind her, the heat from his body sending frissons of hyper-awareness down her back, and reach around her to raise or lower her arms or alter the bend in her elbows. He always apologized just before doing so, too. Once, his hand lingered on her arm a little longer than necessary and Rose closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek in nervous anticipation, the butterflies in her stomach doing the conga as his breath ruffled through her hair, but again he drew back and broke contact.

"Right, now let's see your spin."

"My... my what?" she said thickly.

He came around so that he was facing her. "Spin for me. I don't want you to try to Apparate anywhere just yet, I only want to see you turn."

Her head was already spinning, no thanks to him, but she did as instructed, executing a somewhat wobbly, cross-eyed pirouette that promptly deposited her arse-first on the lawn.

"Bollocks!"

Scorpius reached down to offer her a hand up. "Try to open up your circle a little."

"Sorry?" she said, brushing at the back of her skirt.

"Don't spin so tightly. Like this." He turned to demonstrate.

"Right. Bigger circle. Got it." She tried to recreate the stance he'd put her in before, but he shook his head and came forward to re-position her arms, then stepped back again. "I feel like a bloody idiot. Probably look like one, too."

"It'll start to feel more natural once you have the hang of things," he reassured her. "When you're Apparating for real, it's not as if you stand like this for more than a second or two. Most people simply turn and go."

"You make it all sound so easy."

"It is. Once you've completed your first Apparition, you'll be amazed at how easy it truly is."

She gave him a look of skepticism. "You'd better not be having me on."

A corner of his mouth turned up. "I'm not, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that promise." She took a deep breath. "Here goes."

Trying not to think how ridiculous she must look, and hoping that her mum and Mrs. Malfoy weren't watching, Rose turned on the spot.

And stumbled smack into Scorpius.

This time, he caught her, his hands meeting midway at her back so that she was flush against him, her upraised hands between them. She turned them so that her palms were pressed against his chest.

He_wanted_ to kiss her, she just _knew_ it. She might not be the most experienced girl in the world--that manky Spencer Finnigan didn't count, nor did the parlor games she sometimes joined in on with her Housemates on slow winter nights, one bottle of butterbeer being passed from hand to hand while its brother lay spinning on the floor--but that look on his face was unmistakable.

So then why didn't he?

* * *

Ron found that if he leaned back in his chair just so, he could keep an eye on Rose and Scorpius through the open door of his workshop without actually parking himself in the doorway. The lad had already twigged to his surveillance--clever one, that--but as far as Ron could tell, Rose remained oblivious. Which was fine with him, because he knew she wouldn't appreciate it. 

He glanced down at the schematics for a new product he was supposed to be working on for the joke shop. He'd been holding them for so long as he kept an eye on his daughter that the edge had become wrinkled by the humidity of his palm. Hermione hadn't been fooled for an instant when he told her he'd be working out here while she visited with Grazia Malfoy, especially since he waited until Rose dragged Scorpius outside and then Apparated directly here from the sitting room. If she thought he was going to turn his back and leave Rose unguarded and alone with that boy, however, she had another thing coming. It didn't matter that they were in his own garden, nor that he was confident that Rose was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

For days now Ron had been trying to reconcile himself to two painfully unpleasant facts: first, that his darling Rosie was growing up, and by summer's end would be an adult; and second, that she genuinely seemed to be keen on Scorpius Malfoy. He could scarcely believe how much she'd grown up since she left for Hogwarts the previous September. When she came into the sitting room to meet Scorpius earlier, he'd been stunned to see how beautiful she was. She'd always been beautiful in his eyes, of course, but for the first time Ron found himself seeing her not simply as his precious little girl, but as an attractive young woman. It had taken only one sideways glance at Scorpius to work out he was seeing exactly the same thing.

Ron knew then that things were out of his hands, but he was damned if he was going to give up that easily. He wanted to give Rose room to make mistakes so she could learn from them. He well remembered how his mum had hovered over him when he was Rose's age, and how much it rankled. He wanted to let his fledgling spread her wings and fly. But he knew, only too well, the hazards of premature flight, and there was nothing he wanted more than to protect her from crashing to earth.

It wasn't the realization that Rose was growing up despite his desire to keep her his little girl forever that had Ron's stomach in knots and had kept him awake the past few nights. It was the whole Malfoy issue.

He'd called in a chit at the Auror Office on Friday before work and had them pull the Malfoy dossier. Since he was no longer an Auror they couldn't just let him walk off with the file, but they gave him use of an empty conference room to sort through the reams of information gathered on the Malfoys, going back to Lucius' first years out of Hogwarts. Ron had been tempted to read the family's entire sordid history, but he had neither the time nor the stomach for it. Instead, he flipped to the back of the dossier and scanned through the information gathered since Draco's return to England ten years ago.

It should have given Ron the reassurance he needed. By all accounts, Draco Malfoy was a model citizen, betraying no inclination to resume the sort of activities that had defined his final two years at school. There did appear to be a tendency to engage in shady business practices--either undercutting a seller or overcharging a buyer--when Muggle-borns were involved, but Ron found nothing blatantly prejudicial, nothing to suggest Malfoy was potentially dangerous. And while he did keep in regular contact with his parents, there'd been no effort to bring them back to England, nor had he petitioned to expunge his father's criminal record. Furthermore, he'd severed all of his old school ties save one: Gregory Goyle managed one of his warehouses. On a hunch, Ron checked an inventory from that particular warehouse for evidence of possible contraband, but again he came up empty-handed.

On the surface, at least, Draco Malfoy had reformed himself.

Ron wouldn't be so easily fooled, however. While he knew Draco to be too much of a coward to try anything overt, he also knew that Malfoy's blood prejudice was too deeply ingrained for him to renounce it completely. It might be buried in his subconscious, manifesting itself in seemingly innocuous ways, but Ron knew it would eventually bubble up to the surface. A nundu can't change its spots.

What bothered Ron even more was the question of how much Malfoy had poisoned his son with his bigotry. Even if Draco hadn't been like his father and openly indoctrinated Scorpius to despise those of less than pure blood, there were other, more subtle ways of teaching prejudice to an impressionable, eager-to-please child. Malfoy was clever, too; he'd been second only to Hermione in all their classes at Hogwarts, and the wisdom gained from experience would have honed his shrewdness. Scorpius could be a walking time bomb and have no idea. The right trigger might cause him to say or do something utterly hateful without even realizing it. And if Rose happened to be around when that moment came--or worse, if she happened to be the target--the effect could be devastating.

That possibility worried Ron more than anything else.

* * *

Rose flopped down spread-eagled on the grass and shut her eyes to block out the vertigo that had landed her here in the first place. It seemed as though she'd been practicing turns for hours, and now she was hot and sweaty and dizzy and grumpy and her hair was rapidly disintegrating into its usual out-of-control nimbus. And _still_ she'd neither been kissed nor managed to Apparate even once. She swore profanely, hoping after the fact that Mum was nowhere within earshot. 

"Rose, are you all right?"

She opened her eyes to look up at Scorpius, but the sun was so bright she had to shade them with her hand. "Peachy."

"Do you want something to drink? You look a little ill."

It occurred to her that, having thrown up both breakfast and lunch, she hadn't really eaten all day. No wonder she felt so woozy. "No, I'm fine, thanks." With a grunt, she flopped over on to her stomach, bending her knees so that her bare feet waved in the air. "I'm knackered. No more spinning until my head stops spinning."

Leaning back on one elbow, she peered up at Scorpius, who looked rather disheveled himself. Quite fetchingly so, in fact, although his nose had turned pink from the sun; Rose thought she also caught a glimpse of pink scalp peeking through his pale blond hair. She rubbed at the tip of her nose, knowing she'd be peeling there tomorrow since she'd forgotten to put on sunscreen, and said, "Sit down, Scorpius, or else I'll get a crick in my neck trying to talk to you."

He squatted down so that his knees were at eye level, his fingertips pressed against the ground for balance. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable sitting in one of those patio chairs?" he asked, indicating them with a jerk of his chin.

"No, not really. Do you have something against sitting on the ground?"

"I don't want to get my trousers dirty," he said, glancing around him.

"You - What..." Rose didn't have to look to know she had grass stains on her skirt. So she reached out and gave Scorpius a gentle shove that knocked him off-balance. He landed with an "oof."

"I'll have you know that grass stains on the arse are a mark of character," Rose said archly. "I ought to know; I've got character coming out my ears."

He looked cross at first, but recovered and folded his long legs before him lotus-style, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "When in Rome, I suppose," he said.

Rose giggled.

Scorpius' face blossomed into one of his rare genuine smiles, the kind that always made Rose's stomach do a back-flip. "You have such a nice laugh," he said. His gaze, which had been on her, darted down to fix itself on his hands as the color rose in his face. The smile, though, was still there.

Rose felt her own cheeks grow warm and she, too, felt compelled to look down. "Thanks," she said, plucking out a blade of grass. "I think I sound like an asthmatic sea lion, frankly."

A laugh escaped through his nose. "You do not."

She looked up at him with a grin. "At least I don't laugh like MarJean Bletchley."

"Is she the one who makes that noise like a Fwooper?"

"That's the one," she said with a snort.

He shook his head. "I was once coming down from the North Tower as she and a friend were coming up, and something set her off. In that enclosed a space, it was like being in an echo chamber. I had such an awful headache by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I went straight to Madam Pomfrey."

"Imagine sharing a dormitory room with her for six years."

Scorpius looked at her and choked out a laugh. "I'll gladly trade that for sharing one with Gopesh Singh for six years."

"Why's that?"

He chewed on his lower lip before answering, "He's a somnambulist." Rose's eyebrows went up. "And he sleeps naked."

All it took was one look, and Rose dissolved into peals of laughter, rolling on to her back, clutching her stomach and pulling her knees up as she surrendered to hilarity. Scorpius took a little longer to let loose, but before long he gave in to the moment and soon was laughing almost as hard as she was.

"Y'know," Rose gasped, scrubbing the tears from her face as her laughter subsided, "you really ought to laugh more, Scorpius."

It amazed her how quickly he sobered, his expression growing thoughtful. "It's easy to laugh when you're around, Rose."

She let out a snort as she rolled back on to her stomach. "Yeah, I'll bet it is."

He made a sound of exasperation. "No, that's not what I mean. It's - It's easier to laugh when I'm with you."

"You make it sound as if your life was one long cloudy, gloomy day before I barged into it."

He reached down and started tugging up blades of grass. "I wouldn't go quite that far," he said. "I had a happy enough childhood."

"Did you?"

He stopped pulling at the grass to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." She paused to marshal her thoughts. "When Mum and I were at your house the other day, and I got lost?" She looked up at him and waited for his acknowledgement. "It seemed so empty! I mean, I must have been bumbling around for ten, fifteen minutes before I came across another living soul. Luckily for me, it happened to be you."

Twisting around to point in the direction of her house, she continued, "Here, you can't swing a dead Kneazle without hitting someone, it seems. When the whole family gathers for big dinners and such, there's--" She paused to tally up her aunts, uncles, and cousins. "--about two dozen, maybe thirty people, give or take a boyfriend or girlfriend or two, never mind the mob of 'honorary' relatives. And in case you've not noticed, we're a bit on the rowdy side."

Scorpius' eyes had grown wide. "I don't think there are two dozen people in my entire family, even if I include both sides."

"Don't you get terribly lonely in that big house, with no one to talk to?"

"I have people to talk to. There's Mother, and Father when he's around, and sometimes I'll talk to the servants."

Rose gave him a look of pity. "Your parents and house-elves are your best mates?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"There's nothing _wrong_ with it, but it isn't exactly normal, is it?"

"Do you find it so impossible to believe that I had a happy childhood?" he asked sharply.

Rose opened her mouth to respond, then thought better of it, and left the silence for Scorpius to fill. After a moment or two he continued in a low voice, "We lived in Venice until I was around seven or eight. Mother would take me to Papa's--my grandfather's--factory nearly every day, and when she didn't we'd explore the city. On the days we were at the factory, sometimes I'd play with my cousins or the children of Papa's employees, but just as often I'd follow Papa around as he went about his business. He was a very busy man, but he always made time for me, and never grew tired of my questions."

"Dad said something about your grandfather making glass?"

He nodded. "His family's been doing it for centuries. You can find their glass in the windows of some of the most famous cathedrals in Europe."

"Wow."

A pleased look came over his face. "And Venice itself is such a magical city, with the most incredible history." He looked at Rose quickly, then away again. "I hope I can show it to you someday."

The butterflies had now switched to a rousing can-can. "I'd like that too."

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was very happy when we lived in Italy. I was happy even after we moved to England, though I missed Papa and his factory terribly, and London is nowhere near as lovely as Venice."

"What about friends? Did you have any here in England before you started at Hogwarts?"

He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "No, not really, but I didn't feel as though I was missing out. Mother and Father never let me want for anything."

"You don't act as though you've been spoiled."

He looked offended. "I certainly hope not."

"Have you always been so quiet and serious then?"

"I suppose so. I can't recall having ever been... rowdy." He cut his eyes at her.

She sniggered. "Spend time with my family and you'll learn. It's an essential tool for survival."

"I think I'd like that," he said. At her questioning look he explained, "Spending time with your family."

Rose laughed heartily. "You say that now..." The smile slowly faded from her face as she lowered herself to rest her chin on her hands. "Scorpius," she said hesitantly, glancing up at him from beneath her eyebrows, "why did you ignore me on the train ride home?"

He looked horrified. "I-I didn't!" he spluttered. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

"Let me think." Propping herself back up on her elbows, she tapped her index finger against her chin. "I might be mistaken, but it could have something to do with the way you stopped to look in the compartment where I was sitting all by myself and then kept on walking."

His face was ashen. "You saw that?"

"You admit it then!" Rose cried. She pushed herself up to a kneeling position and jabbed her finger in his chest until he flinched. "You admit that you deliberately ignored me!"

"I didn't think you'd seen me," he mumbled. "You looked caught up in your magazine. I wasn't ignoring you, I just didn't want to intrude."

"Yeah, I can't think of _anything_ I'd rather spend a train ride with than an article on 'Twelve Ways to Polish Your Wizard's Wand,'" she scoffed, ignoring the violent flush that came over him. "Besides, how many times have I intruded on you?"

"You've never intruded on me, Rose."

"Are you mad? What about all those times I interrupted you studying in the library? Or the way I'm constantly dogging your heels when we're on Prefect duty? Or the way I invited myself to sit with you in the Three Broomsticks last Hogsmeade weekend?" Her gestures became more animated as her agitation increased, such that Scorpius had to lean back sharply to avoid an inadvertent blow to the head. "Sorry!"

"I'm all right." He eyed her hands warily before saying, "I never thought of those as intrusions."

"Are you telling me you never once thought, 'Bloody hell, not _her_ again. Why won't she just leave me in peace?'"

"Not at all. I mean, the first time you came up to me it took me by surprise because you'd never even spoken to me before--not purposefully, that is--but I - I - I enjoy your company, Rose. Very much so. I look forward to it, even."

"Then why didn't you want to sit with me on the train?" she asked plaintively, silently cursing the tears taking shape in the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rose," he said. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just - it didn't occur to me that you might want me to sit with you."

"Why wouldn't I? Aren't we friends?"

"Are we? Do you really think of me as a friend?"

His simple question cut her to the quick. "Merlin's tits! For someone so clever, you're not very bright sometimes, Scorpius."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How could you possibly doubt that I think of you as a friend, maybe even as something more, after all the time we've spent together?"

"Erm," he said, before clearing his throat. "Spending a lot of time together at school doesn't make people friends. I've spent more time with any of my dormitory mates than I have done with you, and none of them are friends with me."

"That's because they're a bunch of narrow-minded berks who need an instructor's manual to wipe their own arses." She angrily brushed a curl out of her face.

"They're not all bad, really," he said, shaking his head.

Rose stared at Scorpius for the longest time, trying to make sense out of him. She'd had an inkling for a while now--possibly even from the moment she'd brought him out to the garden--that something was wrong. While he had ignored her on the train (_all right_, she thought,_ while he hadn't wanted to_ intrude), he'd just happened to pass by the joke shop an hour after they arrived in London, even though he'd never been there before, he'd returned again with his mum two days later, and then he'd invited Rose to his house for dinner. By her reckoning, none of that would have happened if Scorpius didn't at least think of her as a friend. She fancied that he was more keen on her than that, but she was willing to consider the possibility that maybe she was being optimistic, or at least projecting her own feelings on to him in the hope he'd respond in kind.

Except that every instinct she had told her she wasn't, that she was dead right about him fancying her. When his hands had been splayed against her back, she could have sworn she felt him pull her just a little bit closer to him. She'd seen him look at her lips and dip his head just a little bit lower, too, right before he pulled back. She'd have to be a fool not to recognize that Scorpius fancied her, and while Rose might be a born romantic, she was no fool.

Which meant something was holding him back. And because she was no fool, Rose had a fairly good idea what that something--or some_one_--might be.

Rose got to her feet and squared her shoulders, planting one hand on a hip and waggling a finger of the other as she glared down at Scorpius. "You can't fool me, Scorpius. I see now what you're trying to do."

His eyebrows went up. "Really? What's that, then?"

"This is about your dad, isn't it? Your dad and your grandfather. You can't believe someone like me would ever want to be friends with someone like you, because I'm a Weasley and you're a Malfoy."

He was quiet for a moment before looking away, confirming her worst fears before he'd even uttered a word. "Father told me it would be the best thing for everyone if I stayed away from you."

Despite everything, Rose still wasn't prepared for his admission, and staggered as if she'd been struck, her hand straying up to her mouth to stifle the cry that threatened to escape. "What? Why? Because of my mum being a Muggle-born?"

Scorpius stood then, his long, lean body gracefully unfolding until he'd reached his full height, then curling back in on itself as his shoulders slumped and his neck bowed. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he kicked at the ground. "He said I was being selfish, pursuing a relationship with you without considering the consequences." He looked off into the distance. "He said that asking you to deal with our family--with the Malfoy name and all that it implies--would be putting too heavy a burden on you."

Rose sucked in her breath. "You don't - you don't really believe any of that rubbish, do you? After everything that's happened already this summer - I mean, why did you even come here today if you thought he might have a point?"

"But he _does_ have a point, Rose. I can't imagine introducing you to Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy being anything but an unmitigated disaster. They'd never accept you."

She didn't think she'd ever been so angry in her life - angry at Scorpius' father for saying such a thing, angry at Scorpius for letting it sink in, angry at herself for not seeing this coming, angry at the whole stupid, bloody mess. "So you'd rather take the coward's way out, and admit defeat without even trying, is that it?"

His laugh might have been derisive, but the misery he felt was coming off him in waves. "Guess we're both more like our parents than either of us is willing to concede. You, the daughter of two war heroes, and me, the son of a coward."

Unable to bear it any more, Rose turned on her heel and strode away, pulling at her hair and fighting the urge to scream. She stopped when she reached the fence and leaned her forehead against it, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. The fingers of her right hand reflexively curled around her wand.

"Maybe --" His voice was close. "I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake. I'm sorry --"

She whirled to face him, whipping her wand out and pointing it at him. "Stop it, Scorpius," she cried. "It was _not_ a mistake coming here, and you are _not_ your father, d'you hear me?" She bore down on him, knowing, but not caring, that he could disarm her in an instant if he wished. "You're as brave as anyone I know, including my parents. D'you think I'd waste a second of my time with you if I thought you were in any way a coward?"

"But you --"

Suddenly he stiffened, his attention drawn by something behind Rose. Before she could turn and see what it was, however, she heard a familiar voice drawl, "Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Lovers' quarrel?"

Horrified, Rose lowered her wand and turned to see her cousins James and Albus Potter standing on the back steps. James, who'd spoken, had a sickening sneer on his face, as though he'd just caught someone nicking sweets from Honeydukes'. Al, for his part, looked merely bemused as he glanced back and forth between Rose and Scorpius. "H'lo, Rose," he said. "Malfoy."

"Potter," he replied coolly, taking them both in.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Rose snapped. Her anger was wholly directed at James; she'd got on well with Al all her life, but James, who went about with an air of disdain as though everyone else was shit he'd accidentally stepped in, was another matter entirely. That he was here, now, given how horrid he'd been to Scorpius over the years, was a nightmare Rose couldn't wake from soon enough.

"Family dinner, Cuz," James said, his sneer turning into a smirk. "I can't wait to see what the main course is going to be."

"We'll see about that," Rose declared. She shoved her wand back in her pocket and grabbed Scorpius' hand. "Come with me. I want a word with my mother."


End file.
